Sleep and Work Shenanigans

Dizzy with sleep, he wakes at two.

Breakfast and some irn bru

To chase the sandman from his eyes.

Then on the couch, a little lie

To gather strength to start the day

That’s almost done and gone away.

A shake or two, he’s feeling better,

Opens mail, for him, a letter.

A job, you say, to start at nine?

Oh God, you moan, well, that’s not fine,

Awaking with the birds at dawn,

Not something you can depend upon.

A night-shift would be better, true.

Teenage biorhythms grew

To such extent that day is night

And night is when your mind takes flight.

So, what’s the choice? There isn’t one.

Welcome to my world, my son.

Up in the morning, work all day,

Then off to bed, take time to pray.

Set alarm and don’t be late,

Bosses don’t appreciate

Sleepy headed, idle teens

Who float through day in slumber’s dreams.

A little while and you’ll adjust.

It’s called growing up and so you must

Arise and work and earn your way.

Just think, some effort, then they pay

A pound, a few, it’s not a lot

But that’s the way life chose the plot,

Work and sleep and play some too,

Work some more, to plan and do.

Such a message to take in.

Don’t put that letter in the bin!

You start it, when? Oh, late next week.

Well, off to bed, a shock needs sleep.

When later you are full awake,

Your mind’s had time to assimilate

The hardest fact that life will give;

You have to work to earn to live.

Verbosity.

Is that even a word? Of course it is. I checked it. You don’t seriously think I would use a word that was made up by me?

Definition

I paraphrase.

One who finds it difficult to get to the point without describing everything.

Example:

I met a woman down the street today who was pushing a pram. It was a lovely pram; full of beautiful colours and challenging activities for her offspring.

OK. Maybe not that, exactly. But you get the idea.

For some reason, my husband is not interested in the particulars of a case but insists on knowing the point immediately. As in, ‘What’s the point to this story?’

It pisses me off big time.

OK. I’ve got a boring story to tell. Please let me embellish it so that it sounds as if I have a life.   

Is this a man thing?

Or, maybe, ‘Oh God, I’m boring the arse off the world,’ kinda thing?’

Most women I know like to embellish the finer points of a story and do so in an entertaining and self-effacing sort of way.

They make the boring sound entertaining because they observe the details.

Unfortunately, a lot of men do not appreciate the finer details.

‘Get to the bloody point, woman,’ is what they’re really thinking.

I am horrified at this idea. The very notion that a story worth telling is stunted in its prime.

Except for one teensy, tinsy observation.

I have listened to and continue to listen to, ‘stories from school’, and, let’s face it, if there was ever anything created that was destined to drive you to distraction and bore you to death is the story of, ‘She said’, ‘I said’, ‘She did’ and ‘I did back’.

That aside, you can usually pass muster with your kids. ‘Oh, did she? That’s awful. What did you say?’

Slightly different story going on here with your nearest and dearest.

So, OK, darling , I’m sorry that the point of all my stories is lost in the minutiae. But, I’ve been here all day wiping the crap off of shitty knickers and trying to come up with a menu that suits everyone, so forgive me if I can’t just ‘get to the friggin’ point’. I’m trying to have a conversation here.  Made up, for your information, of all the drips that go into making the drops of life. I beg your pardon for not holding your attention in some riveting account of the day in the life of….. well, you get the idea.

I know I talk shit a lot of the time.

This, by the way, is a very profound observation.

I repeat, I know I talk shit a lot of the time.

As opposed to?

Sometimes, I don’t know.