For a long time now I've felt frozen solid. I go to work, come home, and NOTHING else. Meantime, my apartment is a disaster area, my car is full of trash I need to throw out, and my clothes are a mess (dirty, torn, just plain worn out). I don't know if it's depression (probably), but I've felt like I can't move, or that it will be bad if I do. I didn't say this makes any sense. Then last night I had the terrifying thought that I'm just sliding toward death this way. I haven't even lived in a long time! So right now I'm trying to do a few things.
No, my fridge doesn't actually have a cat in it (since I don't even own a cat). But it would get any restaurant shut down. There are a few jars in there that are literally a couple of years out of date. There's stuff in there that I'm pretty sure can talk. And I have a very difficult time reaching the bottom shelves to wash them. But it occurred to me that it's probably severely unhealthy to have it that way, so I've started throwing stuff out and I'm getting ready to try the acrobatics it's going to take to get the shelves all washed. I'm making a big bowl of hot water and baking soda to wash them with. In fact, I'll probably wash out one of the veggie drawers and use it for the basin to wash the rest of it.
My lounging gowns are a disgrace -- stained, worn out, you name it. I guess I got feeling that since nobody sees me, it doesn't matter. But I don't want to feel that way any more. The large-size site I use has loungewear on sale right now, so I bought two for summer and two to put away for winter (no, that's not one of them). And wonder of wonders, all four of them were in stock! This site is famous for telling you something you order in May won't be available until November, so I got lucky.
Laundry is a huge hurdle for me. Bundling it all up and hauling it to the laundromat is a very big job. However, there's one very accessible laundry room near me in my complex. Normally I spend my Sunday mornings with Alton Brown (Good Eats marathon). But I think tomorrow morning I have to break sweet Alton's heart and drive over to that laundry room. It's only a short walk from the parking space to the door. I can wait in my car while the clothes wash. And if I get there when it opens at 8AM, I'll have no competition and I can probably get it all done within an hour and a half or so. And I can ALWAYS record Good Eats...
A side benefit of having my clothes clean may be that I'll feel more like dressing up a bit. I own some really pretty jewelry -- nothing pricey, but all pretty. I haven't worn it in literally years. Maybe it's time again.
When I was still with my ex, every Saturday night was my "spa night." Perfumed shower gel, perfumed lotion and maybe powder, fresh nightgown. If I was of a mind to give myself a manicure, it happened on Saturday night.
I have literally not done this in the twenty-two years since I left him. I think it's time to reinstate Saturday Spa Night.
I may be sixty, but I don't think that's old enough to stop living just yet.