Digging Deep

Yesterday was a long, long day.

Between an early morning at work, a long afternoon meeting, a work out, prepping tonight's dinner, cleaning the upstairs and space bagging the contents of our linen closet, I was spent.

Then I remembered Mr. Berg would be home late, so I did his chores and got his dinner ready. I was barely showered and in clean yoga pants when he finally got home. So, I rallied and made him dinner and helped him get ready for another long day today.

Even though I did hit the bed early last night, I still woke up exhausted.
I felt like I had been hit with a ton of bricks. I didn't go on my run.

Instead, I laid in bed for 15 extra minutes and scolded myself for not getting up to run. Never mind the pounding headache and inner thigh muscle that felt like it had been shredded (seriously, what did I do to it? ouch!).
It goes without saying I was a bear this morning. Blurry eyed and bitchy I made my way to the bathroom to start getting myself ready.

Poor Mr. Berg, he tried his best to be cheerful from the shower stall, I wasn't having it.
Then he got out of the shower and promptly (and unintentionally) coughed in my face.
I really wasn't haven't that.

As I was standing in front of the closet trying to decide what matched and what I hadn't already worn (two week rotation, people!) Mr. Berg asks me if he should feed the cats. He also reminded me that he had to leave for a meeting (in 40 minutes) and might not have time (does it take 40 minutes to eat cereal?) He also informed me that feeding the cats is hard.

Feeding cats is NOT hard. You put food in their bowls and the job is done.
Of course, you need to separate them in different rooms so Fat Cat doesn't eat the food he isn't supposed to eat. While you're at it, you need to sit with Sophie to get her to eat. But literally, 7 minutes, and you're done.

Sighing, I told him to just leave them, I'd take care of them.
All the while silently wondering, do I have to do everything around here?
I got ready, stripped the bed to wash the sheets and blanket and carried everything downstairs.
It was then I discovered Fat Cat threw up all over the kitchen floor, the dishwasher hadn't run the night before (even though I set it, swearsies) and Sophie Cat was hungry and demanding to be fed RIGHT.NOW.OR.DIE.

So I cleaned up the puke, answered a hundred million questions from Mr. Berg, put the sheets in the washer while trying not to drop anything on the floor (omg cat hair might get one them before I wash them, according to Mr. Berg) all while trying not to slip on the kitchen floor in my slick shoes and not stepping on Sophie.

I fill up cat food bowels, double check there's enough water, sit with Sophie to ensure she eats, grab the stuff to make my breakfast, and attempt to make a friggin smoothie.

In the meantime Mr. Berg is rambling off things to add to the grocery list while I'm mentally tallying up the cost, all the while wondering how I'm going to pay for it with a bank account currently at minus 10.
We'll skip bruschetta as our something special this weekend and just eat salsa and chips, I think to myself as I throw spinach in the blender.

And then, Fat Cat pukes again.
I lose my shit.
"When is there time for me? When do I get to rest?" I shout as I grab paper towels and 409.
Poor Bob sits in the hallway and looks up at me with his scared eyes, almost as if to say "I'm sorry Mom."
Mr. Berg looks at me like I'm lost my mind, which I have. But then again, I don't see him jumping up to help.

I clean up puke, make my smoothie, sit down and wish I could go back to bed. I mentally beat myself up for not running. I remember I've only earned 6 AP this week. I feel like a Thursday morning Failure. I yelled at the cat, a cat who can't help that he threw up, he just does. He has low digestive enzymes, he can't help it. I know that, why did I lose my temper on someone who can't help themselves?

Mr. Berg leaves for his meeting (25 minutes earlier then necessary) and I clean up the kitchen, start up the dishwasher, feed Sophie one last time and turn off all the lights.

I get in my car and begin to back out of the drive when a warning light comes on
"Check Left Rear Tail Light!"

OH CHEESE AND CRACKERS!!

And it's only 6:34am
I haven't even set foot in the office.
My day hasn't even really begun.