Granted, it wasn’t me going through Ramadan, it was my husband. But still, given that he’s a man and therefore incapable of looking after himself, I had to get up at 4:30 in the morning nearly every day of Ramadan to make him brekkie.
Left to his own devices, he would have eaten a banana or two and said it was fine. And then get sick later.
And since I have a vested interest in making sure he stays well – besides the whole I love him thing – I opted to make sure he stayed healthy. And that meant making sure he was well fed every day.
What does all this have to do with NaNoWriMo?
I was too pooped to party.
It blindsided me completely. I was too tired to be able to manage pretty much anything. Fahim, of course, is fine. He’s much more indestructable than I am. Good for him, and yet, totally unfair.
Anyway. Next year when Ramadan comes, we’ll be approaching this completely differently. I’ll still make sure he feeds well every morning – don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I’ll have to make sure it happens in a way that doesn’t compromise my sleep.
Hmm. Sleeping pills, anyone?