Wasted Week

That weekend threw my whole next week off. I slept on and off that Sunday with the goal of sleeping normally Sunday night and going to work on Monday as normal. When you've been threatened by death at the hands of an Egyptian god, the idea of 'normal' really appeals.

Alas, my plans came to nothing. My sleep pattern had been disturbed and my mind was still distracted by the events of Saturday night and Sunday morning so sleep did not come easily. I went to work on Monday but in retrospect that was a dumb idea.

Looking back, what I should have done was to take Monday off, perhaps Tuesday as well, just to get some rest and to wrap my brain around what happened. Not only would I have been in a better position to face the rest of the week but I would have been able to write up the event much more quickly.

Instead I went to work all week, spent it exhausted and was not very productive. By the weekend, I still wasn't sleeping well and just felt off. I wish Cuthbold would have sent me home but, in all honesty, I'm not sure I would have gone unless he made me. I spent a lot of time trying to accomplish things in my office, getting tired, losing my focus, and wandering about the campus in an effort to wake up.

The weekend could not come soon enough for me. While there were a number of things scheduled for the weekend that I had an interest in attending, there was a distinct possibility that I would not make it to any of those events. I just wanted to rest. If I got to do any of those interesting things then so be it.

Friday night I slept like a dead stone once I actually fell asleep. I woke up groggy and still tired. I may have overslept a bit. I didn't mind the idea of a slow start to the day but was a little disappointed that I didn't feel more rested. I shuffled around the house while coffee brewed, hoping for at least a hint of energy to get through the day.

This is when the doorbell rang.

I groaned. Who was this now? I couldn't remember ordering anything recently so it shouldn't be a package arriving. That doesn't mean it couldn't still be the postal carrier. Or it could be a neighbor. A child selling something for school. Someone bringing a religious thought. All things I wasn't sure I was in the mood to deal with at the moment.

The doorbell rang again and I imagined I heard an insistent quality in the sound. I sighed and walked to the door, hoping that the sight of my rumpled t-shirt, messy hair, and comfy pants would show my lack of interest in a prolonged conversation.

I cracked open the door to view the individual on the other side. Upon recognizing her, I opened the door further. “Sarah Jean?”

Her pretty face was marred by concern and tears. “Patrick?”

There was a pause while I waited for further words from her. I understand my confusion upon seeing her, as I was not expecting her, but her confusion upon seeing me I did not understand. Why would she be surprised to see me at home? After a forever of silence, I finally said “Yes?”

“Oh thank goodness!” Sobbing, she bounded into the house and wrapped me tightly in a hug. By 'tightly' I mean 'wrapped herself around me as if afraid I would get away from her'. It was not by any means unpleasant but it was rather confusing, especially as she continued to weep as she held me, as well as mutter barely intelligible things at me between sobs.

This was rather a lot to take in so early in the morning. At least she smelled nice.