After trying to put away my clean laundry, I realized that my dresser drawers were already too full, so I emptied the long-sleeved tops drawer and folded everything and put it all away, and it was still too full. I did the same with the short-sleeved tops drawer and it was almost worse. I commented to Adam that perhaps I finally had more clothing than drawer space.
This prompted a discussion of overhauling and redoing the entire bedroom, as we both had clothing strewn in corners. This then led to a debate on whether or not I was medically depressed, which I denied, which led to me dreaming of a perfect drug that could actually deliver both intense lasting pain relief and intense lasting fatigue relief, so I had the extreme energy of both body and mind to actually run around cleaning and organizing the house.*
This led to a discussion about doing it slowly, two minutes at a time, a small amount at a time. This led to Adam bringing out one of his airline-battered rolling suitcases, telling me to put clothes and shoes I wasn't presently using into the suitcase to put away for later. I explained that I first needed a trash bag to throw old clothes in for donation. He gave me a bag. I cleared out two full dresser drawers and felt temporarily satisfied.
Adam asked me if I would continue this clothing organizing into the next day. I promised I would -- if he promised to finally organize his unholy sock drawer.
Adam's sock drawer is sort of like the mind of HP Lovecraft. Full of strange, unknown, mismatched, lonely weirdness, possibly with aliens in a nightmarish depth if insanity.
Adam smiled at me held out his pinky, and told me that we would go to Wal-Mart or Target and buy ten packs of generic black socks, same brand and same style. I told him this was a fine idea, because I was starting to lose my mind every time we had to find matching pairs of socks for him. "Okay, this doesn't match.... this doesn't match... nope, not a match... wait, is this a match?? No, no, different toe color. Damn you, socks, I can't do this, oh gods I hate you..."
After lunch, I will continue to pick apart my clothing and shoe options, and then eventually there will be vacuuming.
*I've found this in small ways, especially with organic energy shots containing green tea and yerba mate, which wash down pills like carisoprodol, MSM, royal jelly, cha de bugre, and suma. That combination works fairly well for a while. But I'd like it to happen on its own every now and then. I hate you, fibromyalgia plus cerebral palsy.*
This prompted a discussion of overhauling and redoing the entire bedroom, as we both had clothing strewn in corners. This then led to a debate on whether or not I was medically depressed, which I denied, which led to me dreaming of a perfect drug that could actually deliver both intense lasting pain relief and intense lasting fatigue relief, so I had the extreme energy of both body and mind to actually run around cleaning and organizing the house.*
This led to a discussion about doing it slowly, two minutes at a time, a small amount at a time. This led to Adam bringing out one of his airline-battered rolling suitcases, telling me to put clothes and shoes I wasn't presently using into the suitcase to put away for later. I explained that I first needed a trash bag to throw old clothes in for donation. He gave me a bag. I cleared out two full dresser drawers and felt temporarily satisfied.
Adam asked me if I would continue this clothing organizing into the next day. I promised I would -- if he promised to finally organize his unholy sock drawer.
Adam's sock drawer is sort of like the mind of HP Lovecraft. Full of strange, unknown, mismatched, lonely weirdness, possibly with aliens in a nightmarish depth if insanity.
Adam smiled at me held out his pinky, and told me that we would go to Wal-Mart or Target and buy ten packs of generic black socks, same brand and same style. I told him this was a fine idea, because I was starting to lose my mind every time we had to find matching pairs of socks for him. "Okay, this doesn't match.... this doesn't match... nope, not a match... wait, is this a match?? No, no, different toe color. Damn you, socks, I can't do this, oh gods I hate you..."
After lunch, I will continue to pick apart my clothing and shoe options, and then eventually there will be vacuuming.
*I've found this in small ways, especially with organic energy shots containing green tea and yerba mate, which wash down pills like carisoprodol, MSM, royal jelly, cha de bugre, and suma. That combination works fairly well for a while. But I'd like it to happen on its own every now and then. I hate you, fibromyalgia plus cerebral palsy.*