I have a whole list of posts I’ve been dying to write but haven’t written out of sheer exhaustion — more about the movecation/moving in with The Modern Love Machine, some weird videos and a post about NY that’s about four months overdue. The MLM and I are about to go on a long road trip, so I may try to type those up while he’s driving through the cornfields of the midwest.

But in the mean time, I have this to say: 2010 has kicked my ass, and I am exhausted. And not in the I-woke-up-a-little-too-early sense. More in the I-haven’t-slept-in-about-six-months sense. Except that I have slept, and I’m still ass-tired.

This is not a complaint. Nor is it me being in a cranky or depressed mood. I’m actually quite happy right now, despite having a bag of garbage explode on me this morning. A bag that contained wet papers that had been soaking in old mayo and chicken juices that had been cooking outside in 90-degree heat for about four days. It was as disgusting as you’re imagining, and probably more so. Nope, I’ve had a good week at work in which good means I’ve enjoyed it for the the first time in months and months and which has translated into being productive. It’s Friday. I’m staring down the face of a two-week vacation that includes a Florida beach (allegedly) not yet tainted by oil sludge, the witnessing of the marriage of one of the first people who befriended me in college (and holds a special place in my heart for that reason), four Major League Baseball games, my first Fourth of July home in years and a visit with the first person who befriended me in Nashville (who also holds a special place in my heart for that reason). Also, I’m drinking a Diet Coke. Plenty to be happy about.

Nope, this is me just admitting that I’m tired. And my ass has been sufficiently trounced.

The ass-kicking actually predates 2010. December was crazy, although because there’s been so much crazy I don’t even remember why. This probably had something to do with it. I think it actually goes back to November, when the company took away my officemate and therefore my daily therapy sessions (when I was in the office, that is). Work has been at least 50% of the force behind the ass-kicking, and officemate used to help lessen the blows by saying, ‘Don’t worry about that,’ as in ‘Don’t worry about doing that small thing that is clearly your responsibility. You’ve got more on your plate than is humanly possible, so I’ll take care of that small thing and let you focus on the big stuff.’ I do occasionally hear that now, but mainly from one person who never offers the ‘Don’t worry about that help’ for free — it always comes with payback, and just like the Modern Mom always warned: payback is a bitch.

Like I said, this is not a complaint. Many of the things that have contributed to the ass-kicking have been very good, happy things. I got paid to live and work (and really, it didn’t feel like work) in NYC for over a week. I bought a house. The MLM and I became engaged. We’re (kinda, sorta, when we’re not otherwise busy) planning a fun wedding that very much reflects our spirit. We finally moved into the aforementioned house. These are very good things. And I would quite prefer to be exhaustingly busy to the flip side of the coin. I know there are people in this world who find their lives incredibly boring. I am not and never want to be among them.

But it is a fact: I am exhausted. For over six months, there have been clear sources for the exhaustion — much of it mental. I’ve come close to having a few breakdowns because of the mental exhaustion, though fortunately that bit seems to be behind me now that a few life events are behind me.

Still, there’s a physical exhaustion that remains. I’ve been spending the recommended 7 to 8 hours in bed each night for the past two weeks, and I have yet to feel rested. I think part of that is sleeping in a new place, but usually that weirdness usually only lasts for two or three days at most for me. I hardly ever sleep all the way through the night anymore, and I’ve been waking up early every day on my own accord. If you know me, you know this is not like me. If left to my own devices, I can typically sleep until about 10 a.m. every day. I’ve struggled with insomnia before, and this isn’t it, or at least it isn’t the kind of insomnia I’ve had in the past. That insomnia wouldn’t ever let me fall asleep in the first place.

Pause for happy photo** to break up the heavy.

I’ve got only two things staring me down in the next 12 months: 1. A wedding that’s only about 50% planned (Oh, hey, did I mention exactly 365 days from today I will be wearing a white dress and committing the rest of my life to the MLM? Weird …) and 2. When my busy season cranks back up at work in August and remains that way until Marchish. This is all per the obligatory knock on wood that hopefully will insure there are no surprise Nos. 3-20 that get added to that list anytime soon.

So with only a blessed two … TWO! … stress-impacting events staring me down, I plan on forcefully slowing down my life a bit, come hell or high water. Did you hear that, Universe? I know when I say things like this I tempt you to dump more on me, and you always give in to that temptation. I will cut a bitch, Universe, if you do this time (knock on wood). If I decline your social invitation, please don’t take it personally. In fact, if I drop off the face of the planet for a month and half, please think nothing of it. My body needs to be cared for to make up for the lack of care in the past six-plus months.

Also, if you notice more long, rambly therapy-session-like posts here, don’t think much of that either. Just bill my bosses for your services.

**And so help me, Universe, if the Gulf isn’t that pristine when we visit it next week, I will personally smite BP and all its minions.