Typically I’m a tidy person. I like clean floors, clean bathrooms, and most importantly, clean kitchens. I don’t like a lot of clutter or knick-knacks. I’m the opposite of a hoarder.
However, the last four months or so, I’d estimate that I’ve spent approximately 5% of my time in a vertical position, and 95% of my time in my bed. That’s a generous estimation. Boo. My apartment is messy. There are stacks of paper all over the place from when I was frantically searching for all my stupid 1099s during tax times, there’s other stacks of unopened mail because I don’t like opening mail now, there’s dirty clothes and clean clothes in separate but disorganized piles, and really the only remaining organized area is my kitchen, because as aforementioned, it’s important to keep kitchens clean.
Even my kitchen, though, goddamnit. The turkey chili is still there! In the fridge! Fuck fuck fuck it is gonna be gross…
Today I must dispose of the gross. And of many other things. I’m sad to be leaving my little home. But, gotta get it ready for the next inhabitant.
I’m tired. Sad. I don’t want to leave the comfort of my new routine of doing absolutely nothing. Apparently, though, people must do the things. Today I clean. Tomorrow I drug myself so I can make it through 10 hours of travel without sobbing and freaking out fellow passengers. Thursday, new life.
I’m fairly convinced that there’s no possible direction but improvement, though I’ve convinced myself that in the past and have been repeatedly incorrect. We’ll see. Wish me luck!