Tired of Being Tired
A word to all of my believers out there. The devil is a liar.
I know this to be true, as fatigue can be one of his most powerful weapons.
Fresh off of a wonderful vacation, which was capped off by the second-most emotionally fulfilling day of my life, I compose this entry from the living room of my home, watching my dear wife bake a cake nearby. It’s 6:15 A.M. here in Baltimore. She is tired.
Tired of the hours she’s putting in at her internship, tired of volunteering, and tired of me for whatever reason she can think of once she gets home.
Granted, the internship thing has only been two days, as have the volunteer hours, but its taking a lot out of her already. And understandably, she’s taking a lot of it out on me.
The object of her angst yesterday was my lack of initiative on housework, especially with the pending visit of a house guest. She’s made clear to me in past discussions that she does the lion’s share of straightening, polishing, waxing and spritzing the house from clean to pristine when folks come through. And while I’ve never been a lazy dog who won’t load a dishwasher, throw in a load of laundry, vacuum or scrub, I’ll be the first to admit that I lack her intensity and drive to complete this list in an expeditious fashion.
Honestly, a brother just hates house work.
But I’ve tried to step my game up for her. It’s the least I can do for someone who means everything to me. I’ll never disregard her feelings, and I’ll always put what she needs ahead of what I want. 95 percent of the time, she knows this, recognizes this, and expresses her appreciation for it.
Not today.
The tiredness has her this time.
She knows it, and I know it. The issue is whether she knows that I know.
I don’t know if she knows that I know, but what I do know is that I’m in the kitchen missing out on two hours of valuable sleep, because she woke up extra early to make a cake for an event that I’m having on Friday night. I tried to dissuade her, but that’s the kind of sister she is. A black woman making it happen, all day everyday.
So I’m with her. Not just to amend for her disappointment in my lack of chore doing, but because what’s joy together without suffering together? I can’t work the same amount of hours she is outside of the house right now, but one day I will.
And she will be up with me. Trying to make up to me for reasons she shouldn’t have to, not because she should, but because she knows that the tiredness brought it out of me.
And we’ll both be tired of being tired.
