I've resorted to hummous, pretzels, and beer to motivate me through these last few days of housecleaning. The dregs, the odds and ends (as if that isn't mostly what I own) are always the craziest part for me.
My home now has a name: Moth Haven. I have so many cashmere sweaters and chewed up balls of yarn, there is literally moth shit all over. I wonder if it has any healing powers. I could sell it like rose oil or saffron. Having an organized space has not happened to me in so many years, it is difficult to understand what the reward will be. But I soldier on.
Those of you who know one another should probably be taking bets as to whether I will get done by next Friday afternoon. I don't know which way I would go.
Funny, I allowed myself three beers this evening, but I am not much liking number three. Guess I have had enough.
Here's another picture from Central Park on Wednesday. The shade got to be chilly but it was lovely when the sun was out.
I was thinking today that the last time I tried to do something every day was when I was maybe 20 years old. I resolved to listen to the Grateful Dead every single day. But then I took off for Mexico in the summer, so I had to give up that dream.
Saturdays are often a bit disjointed these days as I go to therapy at 11:30. The hours or minutes before that are absorbed with my trying to be focussed enough to get out of the house and be on time. When I usually get home, around 1:30, I am often exhausted or spacily contemplative, so I end up reading or napping. I suppose I was fortunate today in that I did get up and resume my quest for a cleaner apartment.
E seems to be holding on. L didn't post a report yet, but she did invite me up to hang out with her in Rhinebeck during part of E's recovery, so there is a good degree of confidence there.
Although there are more episodes of Roseanne to watch and 2/3s of a beer, I think I am going to join Miep in curling up ... once I clean off the bed.