Cobwebs

Do you ever get the I-worked-hard-so-I-do-not-want-to-mess-up-anything-blues? I do not want to put trash in the trashcan. Eat? No, messes up dishes. A clean apartment lasts for an afternoon, if I am lucky. Pick up as you go? That works sometimes. Sometimes moving from the couch to the chair takes great effort. Fortunately for me, those days do not visit much when I am well.

I devoted a whole week to bronchitis. Then a whole day to cleaning. Today I would like to sweep the tiny patio and run a broom over the outside of the sliding glass doors. The man's weedeater was a butcher. It left plant viscus everywhere. The cobwebs cover the overhang like doilies on a sofa. A wasp family built a condo on the ceiling. A few aluminium cans blew in last week.

 I suddenly realized I am going all Mother Earth on myself. Spring will do that to you. I was imaging a couple of pots of marigolds sitting on my patio. Easy enough. Color and life for a minimum of effort. 

The eating jag resulted in 5 extra pounds. I cannot seem to quit once I get started. I keep craving pizza. If I give in, will the jag finally be over?

If the sun does not come up soon, I may chuck the patio sweep in favor of the couch.

Later, Dude.