Of late I’ve been suffering a strange condition. Visible manifestations include erratic sleep patterns, an unusual affinity towards ones pillow and blankey and an alarm spike in tardiness.
Which is probably no biggie, you might say. But here’s the deal: its beginning to bother me! Because makes me hyper and full of energy on weekends, and the diametric opposite of that on weekdays. No matter how early I go to bed, or how tired I am, I have found that waking up at a stipulated time is now next to impossible on any weekday. Sure, there are a lot of legitimate reasons for it. It’s been rainy, dull and grey and the first rays of light only creep into my room at around 7, which naturally means my body wants to stay in and surface at its own pace rather than be rushed out of bed when the sun is still rising. I have genuinely been slightly sleep deprived of late, staying up to read, blog and catch up on work (which seems to be in a perpetual state of unfinished-ness) and that could be another reason why no amount of sleep seems to be enough. It could also be that the husband who has been pulling one late night after another, has the excuse of staying in bed a little while longer than usual, and waking up and getting the day going, while he is nestled cozily without a care in the world is not easy to do.
One would think this is just a classic case of fatigue of some sort, but fatigue from what, I ask you? I have the least physically demanding job around, I pull no heavy weights and there is nothing particularly exhausting that I do to expend energy. And yet, I waking up feels like the biggest task of the day. But the kicker, and what is really getting to me is that on weekends, when I actually want to sleep in, catch a few extra hours, because for once I don’t have an alarm ringing, a meeting to reach on time, or a maid who comes in earlier than I would like her to, I can’t. I just blooming cant!
My eyes open way before normal. An ungodly 7 am or some such, which is far too early for a girl my age with no real responsibilities to tend to on a Saturday morning. More so, its far too early considering this strange affliction strikes the morning after I have hit the sack thanking god that it is Friday and the joy that is the weekend that lies ahead. Because in my head that means, “Sleep in, Revati.”
So do you think I have a problem? I do. Because what it means is I have all the energy on a weekend when all I want to do is laze around in my pajamas and eat salad for lunch. I want to do nothing laborious or mentally taxing. I want to slow down and feel sussegado in Goa. And on weekdays, when I have to brace myself for five whole days of work, which demand mental alertness, some amount of agility of body and mind and of course the energy to get through without wilting away post-lunch, I am constantly feeling like my batteries are running low.
I’ve discussed this with a certain sleep specialist I know. Otherwise known as my mother, my go-to for all issues related to health, life, spirit, home, marriage, friendship, housekeeping and the like. And she dismissed it in one a single word. It’s psychological, she said.
Bah. Why are mothers always right?
Anyhow, as it happens the weekend that went by was no different. And I found myself up and bright and sunshiney at 7:30 on Saturday morning. A minor attempt to prod the husband into waking up early for a change was met with a violent shaking of head, and a string of garbled nonsense, which I took to mean “Leave me alone.” So I did. And proceeded to rummage through my fridge, hunting for breakfast options.
When my eyes caught sight of the shiny green shrink-wrapped avocados Amit had given me. I’ve been single-mindedly demolishing them, through various stages of ripeness. So far I’ve had it in good old guacamole, in smoothies, and in a salad too. And sense had prevailed and I gave it a break for a couple of days.
In the midst of the grey, rainy morning that it was, I knew it was just the thing I needed. Bright, green, cold and smooth. They almost called out to me, begging to be slathered on warm toast, just so the warmth of the bread and the chilled avocado hits your tongue in that perfectly surprising way.
I’ve been on a bit of a bread-making binge. Yes, it was only natural. First the cakes, then the bread. (Pies, and pastry, if you’re listening, I’m coming soon, I promise.) So I pulled out some crusty herby beer bread that I had made for dinner a couple of nights before.
Toasted bread, slices of cold avocado, nice big squeeze of lime, salt and lots of fresh black pepper.
Some morning are meant for solitary breakfasts. And when there is an avocado involved, you cannot possibly go wrong.