My life in ruins...er...Roseville.

It was the beginning of the end. Only I just figured it to be a weekend away. I went out to Roseville for a quick visit and a much needed break from my life last weekend and ended up hitting a wall of exhaustion so ugly and so mean it landed me flat on my friends' couch for three days straight. No drinks. No happy hours. No staying up late and laughing until all hours of the night, reminiscing about the old days. No fun. Just an abrupt halt. I didn't see it coming, but I had hit the end of myself. I'll spare you the dirty details, but let's just say that I have never felt this tired in my whole life.

I should have known there was a reason for my adapting to the slower pace of country life so quickly!

The day before I moved up here I had inadvertently forgotten to put any jewelry on. I know, I know...this seems trivial and completely unimportant to most people, but for this city girl jewelry is not only a must before leaving the house it's a crime against fashion. But I was in a hurry to get on the road and figured anyone I would see that day would be forgiving of my lack of fashion sense and that I would remember the next day. But then I forgot again. And again. And before I knew it I couldn't even remember where I had put my bundle of bobbles. In my family, the women always leave the house with what we call necessities. And if we don't remember to bring them along we label ourselves naked. The mishap of not remembering is usually a sign of tiredness. A sign I managed to miss entirely!

Technically, I've been naked for weeks. WEEKS!


Since the weekend of ruin, I have slept at least 11 hours every night. (One night I slept 14 hours.) I was starting to wonder if this was a sign of depression given my lack of interest in anything and the fact that I just uprooted myself from Paradise and planted my behind in the depths of The Sticks. But I soon realized that after 10 years of going full speed, non-stop, exhaustion and everything that comes with it had finally caught up with me. So, I recounted all the things I had done in the last 8 1/2 years and here is the aftermath: 3 years of college, 8 years of treating and finally beating an incurable disease, 12 jobs (At one point, I worked 5 at a time for a full year. Needless to say, I worked 7 days a week that entire year.), 2 different apartments, 14 different room/house mates, traveled to 4 countries and all over The States, at least 25 road trips, 10 trips to Disneyland, 5 boyfriends (I lost count of the number of dates in between that I've been on...), and countless parties. Of course, this doesn't include all the other day to day stuff that will make you tear your hair out, but you get the picture!

Ha Ha! Those years getting tutored in math have finally paid off!

So, now my biggest (and let's face it) only goal is to learn how to rest. I've never been good at this. As a go-getter, I am always determined to be the best at whatever I try and I almost never stop until I've won. And so far I'm giving myself the grade of D+ (at best!) in the Taking It Easy department. (It's an embarrassing fact, but I once went on a job interview and date (not in the same day) while sick with the flu.) So, for now I've temporarily packed myself up and relocated to a place far enough away from the everyday stress for a little R&R.