Doing A Tidy

My house is an absolute mess. I don't know when this started, or when I stopped actively participating in household maintenance... Probably around Christmas after cookie decorating. 

I have a ton of stuff and supplies on the dining table that are just sitting there. Sugar, food coloring, cookie cutters. My bedroom is a mess, just stuff everywhere. Unpacked suitcase from Maine, Doug's unpacked suitcase from July when he went to his mom's. Things that need put on hangers. Boxes. Stuff.

The guest room is in decent shape, I just have a bunch of posters that need framed and they are sitting on the bureau. But overall, nothing in there just hogging up space. 

Living room - the plants, the bead making kits, the side tables, the coffee table. Everything has stuff on it. I was thinking of setting up another puzzle for us, but that's going to take some real work because the puzzle table became the plant table. 

And the kitchen - I try to keep that clean because there is nothing I hate more than stuff in the sink and dirty counters but. At least the stuff in the sink gets put into the dishwasher. The counters, I feel like I clean them every day and then it is a mess again. 

The bathroom, well I've done a great job keeping that clean because you never know if your puppy-owning neighbor will need to pee when you're having a play date. Everything else, clutter is character?

That basement is still disorganized after the spring flood, I go down and look at it, and i'm like, yeah. You could do this. And then, you don't.

I pray for a horrible rainy weekend, a day where I'm just like "okay, today is the DAY!" and then I lounge around on the couch and play games on my phone. 

Motivation is lacking. I don't have anyone coming to visit, there isn't a fire lit under my ass to do anything. Doug doesn't do anything, so why should I do anything. Right? Right. Why should I clean all the time if he's not cleaning. 

Oh, he will clean and then makes such a production about it. He throws things and sighs heavily, and grumbles. And then he gets allergic because things are dusty, and he takes a benadryl and goes to bed. 

I am thinking about this post from Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess, about what depression looks like. I remembered my mom saying in October after my dad died, "I don't feel depressed," when clearly she absolutely was, and manifested it by not eating and drinking or otherwise taking any damn care of herself, her finances, or her life. 

Perhaps I am, maybe? Not sure. I don't rightly know. Also it is absolutely possible that I do not give a shit and I'm just tired. 

No matter what though, I need to get my act together. I need to either do creative things (ie: bracelets!) that hog up my time, or dedicate 10-15 min every day to "doing a tidy."

Like a dedicated 10 of exercise only, putting shit away. 

I think of the Little Projects of 2020, when we were first sent home in the pandemic, how I did something every day. Time to renew that vision. 

I don't think I'll take pictures of things, not even just for my own proof of success (or failure). Just trust me if I report back any statuses on things. Send me your good vibes to be a more productive agent of change. 

Digits, below.

digits

exercise: 12/12 hours.  24 min indoor walk (should have measured 26 but whatever, fitbit!) 8200+ steps by bedtime

blood glucose:

8:30am: 165
4:15pm: 177 
10pm: 172

food:
coffee/water
12:45: Metformin; everything bagel w/cream cheese and a lot of turkey
4:15: 2 celery sticks w/pb
6:30pm: 2 sausages, coleslaw, potato salad, ice cream sandwich
7pm: metformin+jardiance
lemonade+vodka