The weather is slowly changing. The house is chilly now, but I do not want to turn on the heater just yet, or the fireplace. I haven't gotten my flannels down, just wearing extra layers and warm socks. Using a heavier blanket, but the flannel sheets are still up in the top of the linen closet.
I've been trying to paint. I get a bit done, but then I am just so tired I quit. This is pretty much how every project goes. I want to do things, but I am simply too far down to be effective. My hands ache, I cannot concentrate. Time for my annual exam, make sure there isn't a physical reason adding to the bleak way I have been feeling.
This is not true depression, I think up art ideas, and make plans, and even get my work areas tidied up. Beginning is problematic, as it carrying through. Autumn means time for a silk flower swap, and Desi got the totes into the house for me. I even opened one up this morning. All I have to do is get the step stool out of the hall closet, take down the summer flowers and put up the fall ones. About an hour is all it takes. I want to do it. I just don't.
But hey, I did tidy and arrange the charging station, and took the dead tablets off the kitchen counter where they sat for a year. Got the sink sparkling white, well, as much as the old porcelain does now. I have a bunch of stuff to go downstairs, but I did get the counter tidied. I do need to scrub it better. Move the strands of dead battery lights I set down before Burning Man. I did clean up the two things I want to take to Iconoclad, just have to carry them down and put them in the box. Steam and mop the kitchen floor. Get my burner basket clean. So many tiny chores, I can make lists all day, and have Alexa remind me, but each task feels insurmountable.
And then there's the weeks where I don't even watch Netflix, or Amazon Prime, or CBS, or my recordings on Xfinity. I watch Andy Griffith or South Park reruns. It's mindless and comforting in some ways. Just let go and play solitaire with familiar voices in the background.
I miss me.
I've been trying to paint. I get a bit done, but then I am just so tired I quit. This is pretty much how every project goes. I want to do things, but I am simply too far down to be effective. My hands ache, I cannot concentrate. Time for my annual exam, make sure there isn't a physical reason adding to the bleak way I have been feeling.
This is not true depression, I think up art ideas, and make plans, and even get my work areas tidied up. Beginning is problematic, as it carrying through. Autumn means time for a silk flower swap, and Desi got the totes into the house for me. I even opened one up this morning. All I have to do is get the step stool out of the hall closet, take down the summer flowers and put up the fall ones. About an hour is all it takes. I want to do it. I just don't.
But hey, I did tidy and arrange the charging station, and took the dead tablets off the kitchen counter where they sat for a year. Got the sink sparkling white, well, as much as the old porcelain does now. I have a bunch of stuff to go downstairs, but I did get the counter tidied. I do need to scrub it better. Move the strands of dead battery lights I set down before Burning Man. I did clean up the two things I want to take to Iconoclad, just have to carry them down and put them in the box. Steam and mop the kitchen floor. Get my burner basket clean. So many tiny chores, I can make lists all day, and have Alexa remind me, but each task feels insurmountable.
And then there's the weeks where I don't even watch Netflix, or Amazon Prime, or CBS, or my recordings on Xfinity. I watch Andy Griffith or South Park reruns. It's mindless and comforting in some ways. Just let go and play solitaire with familiar voices in the background.
I miss me.
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