To Tell The Truth....

Image found here. 

I have noticed that I am tempted to play the "fatigue" card more than usual lately.

Yesterday, John commented that the coffee in his travel mug tasted strange. Daughter number two tasted it and agreed with him. Then it occurred to me that while doing dishes the night before, I had just a few things left that I didn't want to put in the dishwasher. So I ran some water into the sink, and blopped a few squirts of antibacterial hand soap in the water instead of reaching down under the sink and hauling out the actual liquid dish soap. I guess John didn't like the taste of Dial in his coffee. Go figure.

Or this beauty - asking John to pick up dinner on his way home from work, gosh I'm just too tired to make anything, when in fact I am waaaay too comfy on the couch to make my way to the kitchen.

Then there's those funny little lumps under the edges of my area rugs, which are actually leftovers that I missed while vacuuming. Nobody will notice a little cat fur under the rug, will they? 

I have to confess that I am really tempted give the "I'm so tired" excuse when actually I just don't want to do whatever I am supposed to do. Sometimes my conscience wins out, sometimes the lazybutt Julia side of me wins. 

After feeling guilty about this realization, and mulling it over for a few minutes, I realized that an excuse is an excuse is an excuse. In my BS life, (before Sjogren's) my excuses used to be based on my frantically busy life. I can't get to that dentist appointment, I simply don't have time; or Wash the dog? You've got to be kidding, I don't have time for that, or my favorite Let's order a pizza for dinner, I just didn't have time to make anything. 

I am who I am, regardless of what my naughty white blood cells are doing, I guess. It all boils down to motivation, regardless of what the circumstances are. My limitations previously were dictated by the number of hours in a day. Now my limitations are defined by how honestly I am assessing my energy reserves. I would love a gauge or dial or some other visual measuring device placed prominently on some part of my body, (OK, this is conjuring up some really disturbing images, let me refine that), like on the palm of my hand, or on my forearm. That way, I could compare my laziness levels against my actual energy available. 

Or not. I have a sneaking suspicion  that I really don't want to know.