More Than Tired

I was that dreadful kind of tired yesterday. It was the kind of tired where you feel like retching. It was the kind of tired that makes you afraid to handle sharp objects. It was the kind of tired that pulls you into bed at 4:00 in the afternoon and doesn't let you move. Your body tells you that you aren't going anywhere or doing anything. Your head hurts. Your eyes ache. Your limbs don't work right. I had to halfway pass out for an hour before I felt remotely human again, so I could drive Hammy to soccer practice. I was afraid to drive if I didn't feel better. I was that tired.

I did get enough rest to be functional behind the wheel. I still wasn't too keen on the idea of making dinner though, so I piled the kids into the car and headed to Wendy's where they put cheese on my damn hamburger again. I hate that. Serves me right for eating a hamburger and fries, I suppose, especially when I didn't run today. I'll run tomorrow on my rest day though, so I don't feel too bad about that. I was not happy about the cheese though.

There was more cheese in that restaurant than what was on my hamburger. It appears to have been elderly couples night at Wendy's. One couple seemed to be on a date. I really hope it wasn't a date. I hope it was a visit between new friends. They certainly didn't know each other very well. But I think it was a date, and if I didn't feel sorry for the woman because she was going on a date to Wendy's, then I felt sorry for her because of her partner.

Maybe she's the kind of woman that likes a man that talks so loudly that listening to their conversation could not remotely be considered eavesdropping. She might also be the kind of woman that likes a man who talks about all his friends dying or the Asian wife of a guy he knew that took better care of his Monte Carlo than he did her. Maybe she thought the joke about falling asleep while she went to the restroom was funny. I'm not elderly after all, so I haven't mastered the aged sense of humor. In fact, it was entirely possible the man could have fallen asleep in the amount of time it took the woman to get to the bathroom and back, but I don't know that I'd make jokes about that. I also don't know that I'd eat chili for dinner at an age where flatulence is a way of life, but that's just me. I know I would avoid chili for dinner even at my own more flatulently-controlled age if I were on a date. But whatever makes them happy. She might be the kind of woman who's naturally quiet and likes a man who will talk your eardrum into a state of numbness. He did make my dinner interesting after all.

There were two young couples with small children, and a middle-aged couple wearing matching Harley shirts, but besides us, the rest of the restaurant was filled to the brim with elderly couples. Maybe Old Country Buffet next door had a wait.

I really like watching and listening to old people, so I'm glad they were there. I watched a woman cut her husband's sandwich in half while he went to wash his hands and wondered if I'd do such a thing for John when we are that age. I doubt it, but I'm sure I'll do other things that young people won't understand. I saw another woman applying lipstick after her meal; something my own grandmother always did because she felt naked without her lipstick. The lady carefully bit down on the cylinder and colored both lips at once. Her lipstick was shaped like a spike. I heard a woman's lipstick is like a fingerprint. Hers certainly was. Those were the couples that caught my attention, but mostly I listened to the man who talked about death way too much� and to my own kids.