There are all kinds of tired.
- Just got back from great vacation tired.
- Just got back from terrible vacation tired.
- Worked out too long and too hard tired.
- Hanging out with energy vampires tired.
- Extra gravity from sugar low tired.
- Professional, personal and civic injustice tired.
- Thanksgiving tired.
- And so on
But there is a certain specific kind of Friday tired. It comes after day piled upon day piled upon day. It is the 41st-hour exhale, the critical mass of an inbox, gone beyond any kind of cupcake or office frivolity remedy.
It is Friday tired. Tired in your eyes and your bones and your head and your hips.
So tired that I have no energy to write this post, and instead, I will sweep my week’s worth of clothes off my bed, which is bigger than a Cadillac, and drop off to a lovely nap.