Knackered

The drive to pick up Lucy at school turned into a twelve-hour epic due to snowstorms. Cars spun off the roads in all directions and at many points we were creeping along at 10 mph in a white-out. I am very grateful we arrived home safely at 12:30 AM.

My dear friend Alison had kindly brought the animals in out of the storm so I didn’t have to drive down to the farm to do chores on our return.

This morning it is 5° F and we are due for more snow and 50 mph winds.

My college-student helper Luke wrote to me two weeks ago, offering to work while he was home on vacation. My list is long, but I also got fewer than four hours of sleep. I am, in the English phrase, knackered. (I love the etymology of this slang: a knacker is someone who picks up dead animals on farms for rendering, so if you are knackered, you are so exhausted you are fit only to become soup bones, soap, or fertilizer.) This describes me pretty well.

I emailed Luke this morning to say that it would be fine with me to cancel today, but also fine with me to work. I don’t even have enough energy to make a decision.

We shall see what he wants to do.

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