God, I'm stupid.
I decided to take a week off from writing to work on cleaning my apartment. Because I'm getting annoyed by the mess, and because Grandmommie's been bitching about it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
But now, suddenly, I'm getting depressed. Which shouldn't be a surprise -- I need to write, I need to be creating.
But I also need to clean my stupid apartment. And between work, school, writing, and Grandmommie, there just aren't enough hours in the day.
But I'm depressed, so that the cleaning isn't proceeding nearly as fast as it should.
And I'm about five minutes from saying "fuck cleaning" and going back to writing.
But now, suddenly, I'm getting depressed. Which shouldn't be a surprise -- I need to write, I need to be creating.
But I also need to clean my stupid apartment. And between work, school, writing, and Grandmommie, there just aren't enough hours in the day.
But I'm depressed, so that the cleaning isn't proceeding nearly as fast as it should.
And I'm about five minutes from saying "fuck cleaning" and going back to writing.