What to do now. Well, at ungodly o'clock (which I just realised was ungodly plus one hour) I've Gumptioned my cookware.
I'm just on 12 months post diagnosis and I'm not so worried about the disease as I am about the general state of my life. Everything is grubby and disorganised. My half arsed attempts at housekeeping--which was never my strong point anyway--mean I'm living in conditions that are starting to resemble my uni years.
I am sure that 'That Poor Woman' (my shrink) would have some sage advice about priorities; such as concentrating on my work and studies. But, no. I'm having a mental churn in the early hours about how much I have to do, so I drag all my saucepans out and start giving them a super clean.
The ceilings are festooned with cobwebs, there is dog hair everywhere and the bathroom...Phhffft. I'm two weeks off submitting an assignment that I haven't even started, my boss is making polite noises about my not quite meeting deadlines---so I polish my pots and pans. At a time that means I will be completely rooted for the rest of the day.
Oh well, at least it will look like the kitchen fairies have visited in the night when I finally drag myself back out of bed.
Marg xxx
