I’m on the couch, having a very unpleasant dream. I open my eyes, it’s 6 a.m. Might as well make my coffee and feed the cats.
My hand is tingling bad as I’m hunting and pecking away. What shall I write about?
My Aunt Leenie is coming up today, and the whole house is a disaster. Papers everywhere. Clean and dirty clothes. Toys, books. Displaced boxes and bags in the kitchen we haven’t put away. Days of sweeping.
I hate that every time someone visits here, a massive cleanup is required.
I don’t care whose stuff it is or isn’t, who left it there. What matters to me is that it’s there and needs to be somewhere else.
I’m upset that I am actually somehow up a couple of pounds on the scale. Intellectually I understand that this is the nature of daily fluctuation, and I’m probably just retaining water or something, but emotionally, I’m like, come on! I’ve had such a good week both in points and activity, and nothing to show for it?
I need to take my meds. I might feel better after I do that.