If you write the post, you will get your arms around the fact that it is Sunday night and there’s things intended to be done that have yet to be done.
If you write the post, you will no longer need to write it. If you write it, you will know what else to do.
Wash the sheets, it will say, and make the bed because there is no excuse for not doing that.
Pick out your clothes for tomorrow because you will not have to spend five minutes in front of the closet trying to put together an outfit that doesn’t make you look like you tumbled out of Goodwill. Which there is zero wrong with beyond the fact that people have expectations at this joint where you work.
Take a bath so that you can get some heat out of your body.
Keep drinking alcohol. Start, even better.
Okay, these things are done. The work email checked and responded to even if I doubt I did it correctly. I also noticed I sent something that is completely non-sensical earlier in the week. But, I really can’t unsend it and so my dears, I come to you with a different sort of song.
I gotta get my act together, body-wise. Having the hot foot again. The sort of thing that happened way back in Italy but went away. And some other weirdnesses. I am not fully alarmed, just…concerned as so many things in my life have gone the way of complete fuckery when a little bit of maintenance would have gotten them right as rain. I do not have any particular sense of willingness to do what needs to be done and get myself checked out. An actual, if obviously undiagnosed, phobia well prohibits that and only through sarcasm and farce can we go so far as to mention it here – instead, I have a large willingness to lose weight.
Mostly, I think because I can justify dealing with sidetracking my emotions over J. Emotions that are so jumbled and confusing and frustrating that all I can do is stop getting myself tangled up in them. Regardless as to the reasoning, if I can’t get a feeling of connectedness and care (though I can, it just comes as a scratch on someone else’s record), I have to be in a position to deal if the boot or the door or the long goodbye comes my way.
I want to feel so lovely in my skin that he’d be mad to throw me over, so glorious that if he did, I could accept his reasoning and tart along my merry way.
So what’s the answer? What’s the path to take from right here? When stress arises and now that I’ve got some money in hand which means easy access to foods that aren’t helping me…what do I want this new plan to be? Adding exercise? SparkPeople or MFP? Low carb. Blue Apron so I don’t eat out? I am at least thinking about it. Here in my made bed.