I hate my days off.

Up until a month ago my wife and I had the same days off work; Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  However, her shift changed and now she has the traditional Saturday and Sunday off.

To many,  the thought of having time off work without their significant other is a dream come true,  but there’s only so much I enjoy doing alone…and it’s getting really sore.

Now,  I hate to be sickly sweet here,  but my wife and I have an awesome marriage.  Spending time without her is like watching anything with the Kardashians in it; a pointless waste of time.  In addition,  Tuesday is the day I Skype my family back in England so my wife is missing out on that too.

I would love to say something hilariously sarcastic and biting about in-laws and how she’s dodged a bullet,  but alas…she really does love my family and vice versa.

I’m telling you, anyone looking in on our marriage from the outside is usually reaching for a bucket.

So,  today is Tuesday,  my wife left early for work,  and I Skyped my family at the normal prearranged times.  Due to the eight hour time difference,  the Skype calls are very early in the morning so,  historically (well,  for the last month at least),  I go back to sleep afterwards.  However,  instead of having a nap for a couple of hours,  I usually end up sleeping for ages and missing most of the day.

Either that or I end up down a YouTube rabbit hole and still end up doing none of the things I had planned to do.

Yet I always seem to end up sore.

This is all made worse by a fuzzy head usually brought on by oversleeping or concentrating on a screen without blinking.

Well,  today was going to be different.  Today I was going to do some washing [laundry],  tidy up,  go to the gym and get my hair cut. So today I set myself an alarm to only sleep for an hour.

Genius,  right?

Wrong.

Instead of only sleeping for an hour,  I decided to snooze button my way through four hours of sleep.

It’s become another typical Tuesday…or,  should I say ‘Snoozeday’? Huh?  Get it?  Snoozeday?  Anyone?

(holds up hand for a high five he will never get, and all that can be heard is the sound of crickets as a lone tumbleweed rolls by)

I don’t even have the time or the energy to get my hair cut.  This is an activity that involves me sitting down on the way to the Barber,  sitting down while they do all the work,  and then sitting down all the way home…and I still can’t be bothered.

Instead I’m slouched in bed,  looking at the clock and justifying to myself that I simply don’t have the time to do anything.

Well,  except write this post.

Priorities.

Now, where’s that box of tissues?