We went to a party last night. I'd been tired all day (it takes me all day Saturday to recover from the work week, even though I don't have a full calendar at work) but no worse than usual.
We get to the guy's house, and it's this little 1920s brick bungalow at the top of a steep driveway. There's maybe half-a-dozen steps up a steep walk to the front door. By the time I got halfway up I thought my legs were gonna quit working. I wasn't even sure I could do the last step without resting. Embarrassing. I feel like a fat old woman, although I am neither.
We have a wedding to go to tonight, which I hope will be more accessible.
My "vacation" this summer wore me out. Ever since I got back, I've been wishing I had a week off just to sleep.