Pity me, my darling, and carry my blues away...
By the melodramatic title we can tell a) the underwire's escaped from my favourite bra, and b) I'm tidying my bedroom.
The latter is a Big Deal. I am fuelled by judicious application of tea and donuts. My bedroom is my Depression Thing. You see me going to work all dressed and showered and reasonably kempt, and wonder where my depression's manifesting. Well, it's manifesting in my fucking bedroom, which mutates around me into a kind of hideous nest. I've been at it for... oh... 5 hours and 4 binbags, and I can't honestly say it looks tidier. Well, there are some patches of carpet.
I've thrown away a lot of university stuff. Not my research, and not the various books I really need to return to their owners. But quite a lot. Ditto a lot of the paperwork I amassed while working in Wolverhampton. Yes, it's cathartic.
I was going to do it over the past week, particularly on the Friday and Saturday I had off work. Then I was struck down with the dreaded lurgy, and spent all my free time passed out in my own snot. Best-laid plans, and all that.
I'm not allowed to buy any more yarn till I've got the knitting paraphenalia down to one 80-litre storage box.
The latter is a Big Deal. I am fuelled by judicious application of tea and donuts. My bedroom is my Depression Thing. You see me going to work all dressed and showered and reasonably kempt, and wonder where my depression's manifesting. Well, it's manifesting in my fucking bedroom, which mutates around me into a kind of hideous nest. I've been at it for... oh... 5 hours and 4 binbags, and I can't honestly say it looks tidier. Well, there are some patches of carpet.
I've thrown away a lot of university stuff. Not my research, and not the various books I really need to return to their owners. But quite a lot. Ditto a lot of the paperwork I amassed while working in Wolverhampton. Yes, it's cathartic.
I was going to do it over the past week, particularly on the Friday and Saturday I had off work. Then I was struck down with the dreaded lurgy, and spent all my free time passed out in my own snot. Best-laid plans, and all that.
I'm not allowed to buy any more yarn till I've got the knitting paraphenalia down to one 80-litre storage box.