Fall’s Weird Energy Surge

Okay. It’s noon. I’ve finished three loads of laundry, hung them on the clothesline to dry in the sun, pedalled my exercise bike, eaten two breakfasts, and had a nap. What the heck is going on?

It’s fall’s weird energy surge, that’s what. I awoke this morning at 5:30 am. Full of energy. Which is weird. My actually seeing the sky as it gets light is normally unheard of around these parts.

Hubby regularly gets up at 4:30, so he can leave at 5:00 for his 6:00 o’clock tee off time. I am only ever up at 5:30 when Hubby is leaving for a wilderness canoe trip. Then I wave him off and scuttle back to bed.

I’m sad that there will probably be no more wilderness trips to Algonquin Park for either of us. Hubby’s arthritis in his hands makes paddling and all the other stuff the trip entails almost impossible. He will miss them. And so will I.

But there was no lollygagging this morning for me. There’s just something about early fall which gives me a weird surge of early morning energy. I should add that the first load of towels were hung on the line before it was fully light outside. I’m serious. Hubby and I shared our first cup of tea at 5:45. By then I’d put a load of towels in the washing machine and made the bed.

By the time the sun came up at 6:46, the second load was in the washer and I’d sat down at the computer with my second cup of tea to read my email. By 7:30 Hubby was bored and went back to bed.

At 8:00, I cooked myself breakfast, made more tea, ate, and then worked on my “Travel Wardrobe” Pinterest board. Then I hung the second load of washing on the line and tried to start this post. But I was flagging. Too little sleep and too much tea is not good for the brain. Why had I not made notes on what I wanted to write about today?

By 9:00 I was back in bed.

I awoke for the second time at 10:30. Starving. So I made more tea and had toast and peanut butter. Then I hung the third load of laundry on the clothesline, and went to pedal my exercise bike.

And now here I sit. At noon. Slightly vibrating because of too much caffeine. And slightly braindead because my day has been discombobulated by being awake when I should be asleep. And asleep when I’m normally awake. It’s like having jet lag without having left home.

In other news this week, our trip preparations continue apace. Actually much of the preparation is reminding ourselves where we’re going and when and where we’re staying. We made all our bookings back in the spring. So Hubby is poring over maps, planning routes, and reminding himself why we chose what we chose to see or not see.

I’ve been finalizing a hard-copy calendar. We like to see the whole month at a glance, where we’ll be, what the name of our accommodation is etc. It’s all on an ap on my phone, but we still like to have a hard-copy. I’ve also been printing tickets, saving them in the appropriate aps and wallets. And making a last minute to do list.

Oh, and I’ve been planning my travel wardrobe. Making lists, trying on outfits, eliminating outfits, etc. I spent two days doing this. I started with bottoms, and tried to make the same tops and footwear work for all the bottoms. Then the second day I revised, eliminated some categories entirely, and wrote down decisions I still have to make. But I’ll tell you more about that next week when I’m finished.

Next week I get my trip haircut and pedicure. Gad, that makes me sound like a princess doesn’t it? Until we went to a resort in the Cook Islands on our way to Australia in 2003, I had never had a pedicure. I was 47 years old. Now I get them twice a year. They make my long, boney, slightly bird-like feet look way better in sandals.

You know at my book club meeting last week we were talking about spa days. Some of my friends love a day at the Nordic Spa. Not me. At least I don’t believe I would like it. There’s just something about too much pampering that makes me uncomfortable. Besides, I hate saunas, and whirlpools for a start. When we stay at places where there are spa facilities, Hubby likes a sauna, and he loves a whirlpool for his back. Especially after a long ski. Me. I head back to our room for a shower, change into my cosy sweats, and then settle down with a tea and my book.

Speaking of books. This week, I’m reading My Friends by Fredrik Backman. Carmen, my hairdresser, who is a great reader, gave it to me. She’d been given it by someone and loved it so much she wanted to pass it on.

Oh my, I am loving it. Most of the time. It’s a slightly weird book. Oddly written, with altering points of view, and an almost circular way of storytelling. You have to be patient and let the story unfold with all its wrinkles and folds. Trying to pin down the timeline is virtually impossible. And frustrating. At times it reads like a fairy tale. Reality is slippery. The characters are achingly vulnerable, sometimes endearing and then annoying. I’ve wanted to pitch the book a couple of times. Then I pick it up later and get lost all over again.

How’s that for a very un-English-teacherish analysis? My literary terms elude me this afternoon. But, as I said, I have fall’s weird energy surge induced jet lag today.

What strikes me most about the book is the the fact that all the characters have been damaged by a childhood which is dominated by loss and or violence. I cannot imagine what it must be like to live in constant fear. To not feel safe in your home. To be able to find safety and kindness only outside your home.

Reading this makes me grateful for my own childhood. Life when I was a kid seemed precarious at times. Mum was constantly worried about money. We ate a lot of hotdogs and leftover stew at the end of the week before Mum’s payday. We didn’t own a car. I never had piano lessons or anything like that. Although my big brother Terry paid for my step-dancing lessons when he started to work. We never went on vacations. But I never felt unsafe. Or afraid to go home. And that makes me privileged. Way more privileged than many, many kids.

In fact I often think about what it felt like as a kid to be in bed on Sunday night earlier than everyone else. My brother and sisters were all older than me. And lying there in the dark, snuggled under the covers, seeing the line of light under my closed door, and hearing the murmur of the television and the voices of my family always, always made me feel safe. And loved.

And even now, on the nights when I go to bed early and Hubby stays up to watch the hockey game or the baseball game, the light under the door and the murmur of the television always makes me feel the same as when I was a kid. Safe. Cherished.

Okay, it’s almost 6:00 pm. my friends. I feel that I have written myself out. The problem with fall’s weird energy surges is that they leave me spent. So I will close now.

Hubby is making dinner in the kitchen. Speaking of feeling cherished. I do love a man who can cook.

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