I was told I would fall flat out when everything was settled but, hey, I can handle that.
The migraine has been followed by total inertia.
The only reason the bed will be made tonight is because I dragged all the cat be-furred sheets off it this morning. I did change the doona cover, took 40 minutes to do that.
I moved one piece of furniture.
I talked the mowerman into taking out the bins for me.
I fed the birds.
I fed the cat, twice.
I had breakfast about midday.
I don't remember when I last had a shower.
I do remember when I cleaned my teeth, I threw up in the basin, bloody migraine.
I am surrounded by things I must do but can't be bothered summoning up the energy.
In my mind everything has magically sorted itself into its proper place without any trouble but the reality is that they're still sitting on the floor.
I don't want chocolate.
I don't want a G&T.
I don't even want ice-cream.
Why am I in the pit?
Because the whole ghastly parade of my life is in photographs that I've inherited from mother. Every time I pick up another page to keep or throw out, there I am in the middle of another miserable memory. My mother said I was a quiet child, always sitting in a corner if we went out. Did she ever think to fucking ask why I did this? I was terrified of everything around me, people, noise, new places, kids being kids, cruel mostly.
So what does this have to do with now?
Buggered if I know but it's great therapy to tear up photos.