I have held down my "whatever" to the extent that I have not been evicted or fired from anything. Yet.
All this reflection is leading me to a better understanding of what I already knew: I am doing okay, sure. But really what I am doing it what I always do: deny, distract, engage in my own special brand of chaos, which I will not describe because you'd be bewildered anyway. Suffice it to say that every day, I wake up with the same set up plans and every day I engage in different plans - plans I had not planned on and that do me no good, not to mention other people. Who does it help, exactly, to bleach my shower curtain when I know full well that I am moving out of here in six weeks? Where is the up-side to a searching a fearless shoe inventory - during which I dispassionately relieve my closet of all but ten essential pairs.
Someone at Salvation Army is going to be out of her mind with barely worn shoe-pleasure. Don't even get me started about the vacuuming. Of the bamboo blinds. That could surely have waited, too.
I did do some actual time-sensitive work today, but only after I disassembled the desk and swept all the crumbs out of the drawer joints.
I get that it's better than passing out in a mouldering pile of my own filthy laundry..., but shit... shouldn't that laundry be done already? Does the zero-underwear moment really need to arrive before I reconnect to what's real and what's right?
Can someone save me from myself? Why cannot I focus on, um, the business of my life? Why?
See if you can answer that while I climb a ladder and dust the crown molding. The rags and vinegar-water are waiting and I... I really think I am going to do it.