I’ve had another one of those regular Sundays. With time to kill, plans, but nothing pressing, often thinking I’d like to write something. The day started out with the refreshing reminder in the grumbling pipes under our house, that we were out of water again. So that lead to a mid morning room tidying, time spent in my room. Cleaning has really been something I have come to enjoy since I’ve moved out of home, and I think how tidy I keep my room really does fluctuate, but when it is clean, I really appreciate it. When I was at home I barely cleaned my room at all. Perhaps it’s just that pesky “growing up”.
And ah because of the drugs ingested on a number of occasions the last few days I woke up to that nagging feeling, social anxiety, general anxiety. Tiredness. Numbness. Aching.
But after a second coffee the brain began firing as best as I could really hope for, and the body grudgingly accepted that today was a day for domestic activity. So my flatmate and I started by tracking down all the equipment required to return the water to working order. Not a huge task really, just 100-200 meters of hoses, connectors, etc. The kind of stuff likely to be lying around in a place like this.
So 30 minutes of searching, connecting, climbing, and various running around all for the cause (wanting to shower in todays case). You can all rest easy knowing the water tank is filling as I write this. Apparently it’s not quite full enough for me to shower yet. Unfortunately.
Then came a good hour or so of general dishes and chores, the kind I struggle to find enjoyable internal escapism generally. I just tend to stand there all in a mental funk, and think too much about things that I’d often rather not.
And to top off my day, being the mixed bag that it has been, I’ve spent all afternoon in my room, pottering around, generally doing the things that I want to be doing. Writing, television, video games, making my bed, tidying some, and most importantly, I was alone with my own thoughts, and enjoyed myself.