Yesterday when I went to bed I realized I was bone tired. I am not using hyperbole here (and I actually know precisely what hyperbole is, see below). My BONES WERE LITERALLY AND UTTERLY TIRED.

Before I go into the root causes of my exhausted bones, let me add a disclaimer: the information transmitted below is intended for humorous purposes only for the person(s) or entities reading it. Today’s blog may contain information that insinuates that I was ridiculously put-upon yesterday. Any assumption that I am asserting that I am busier than other people is patently silly and misguided. If you find yourself holding that thought in error and harrumphing, please climb off your fancy high horse and realize that I am only looking to vent publically. Any suggestions for how to streamline/feng shui/better prioritize my life will be studiously ignored. This blogpost may also contain information that may seem to allege that moms are more put upon than dads and inherently superior multi-taskers. Please read no further if you may be overly sensitive to such reflections.

Mondays are writing days for me. While I worked all day yesterday on some cool stuff for my actual job as a geriatric psychiatrist/researcher (writing a paper, meeting with someone about a possible new dementia initiative, jumping through a series of hoops to get two new grants going, fielding a series of emails about a possible clinical referral), here are some non-work moments that made yesterday SO special:

• 19 year old who recently moved back home after freshman year at college woke up sick. And sooooooo needy. While in transit to a meeting, I receive a text inquiring about the possibility of me returning home to “make her some toast”. While toast was not made, a cinnamon crunch bagel (“Sliced like bread!”) and Chai Latte were picked up from Panera by your’s truly and delivered.

Waah waah. GIve me toast.

• Deciding that yesterday would be an awesome day to deal with my dog Chloe’s nails, I stop on the way home from a meeting an pick up an electronic nail file (clipping has become a nightmare). I fail to vet this with Chloe. She thinks it is a crap idea. Chloe first lets me know this by curling her lip as I file away. Not completely oblivious, I give her a nice treat between nails. Chloe decides that she needs to up the ante and leans over and softly but firmly bites my hand. No mark left, but Chloe’s message to me is clear: “I think we are done here.”

“I decide when the nail trimming is done”

• In the evening, I work with my 11-year old on his “figurative speech” assignment and find out that he could have done most of it in school, but left it to do at home with me “because I wanted to work with you on it”. This was actually a cool assignment of creating a book with definitions for 10 or so terms with illustrations and was kind of fun, but not with the added time pressure of being due TODAY. I wanted to wring his neck. Quickfun quiz: is that a simile, metaphor, hyperbole, or cliché? (Trick question!! None of the above in this case! I really wanted to wring his neck.).

• I confer with my husband by phone on the way to driving above 11-year old to an activity. We decide to “just cook one of the Blue Aprons”. HAHAHAHAHAHA. I should have known from the name of the recipe that I was in for some good times: “Hoisin Chicken Steam Buns”. Feast your eyeballs on the “Cook Time” below. See what it says? “20-30 minutes”. GOOD ONE Blue Apron!! You guys are hilarious. I bet Tom the copywriter peed his pants as he typed that in. I will spare all the gory details, but this %^#$ recipe took me about an hour and a half to execute. With each step, I found myself getting more steamed than the buns. Also note that Tom, the sidesplitting jokester that he is, thought it would be funny to insinuate (with his stupid little wine glass graphic) that you have one glass of Pinot Grigio with this recipe. I found that you need at least two to get you through it, not counting the one you might have after you throw your tired butt on the couch to watch a new episode of Bob’s Burgers as you eat it.

“Let’s just make a Blue Apron tonight”

• I saved the best for last. Did I mention that while I was creating my Blue Apron masterpiece, my husband was texting me for moral support from the car dealership? Here I will just share my screenshots of this fun experience. As you read the texts, remember I was pulling chicken, creating a hoisin slaw, and steaming buns while fielding these. My favorite text (mid Wine #2) is when I tell him we are having “chickrn buns”.

Meanwhile at the car dealership….

So yesterday. A lollapallooza. I find myself looking forward to going to clinic today. To relax my bones.