Distress Tolerance, Part 3: Confessions

The Daily Headache

I wrote for 80 minutes this morning. I got through 70 minutes of cleaning house. Since I’ve been exhausted, sleep-deprived, and just plain not home all week, 70 minutes didn’t get me very far: unloading and loading the dishwasher, most of the laundry, putting accumulated crap away. That kind of thing.

So I’m looking at a home that still looks filthy to me–a layer of dust on the furniture, grime on the counters, and cat litter on the floor. (How does it end up absolutely everywhere? But I guess that’s what happens when your cat has kidney failure and uses the box 4-5 times per day…)

At least I have clean dishes to eat off of, and clean clothes to wear come Monday. Meanwhile, to catch you up (if you haven’t been following up), I endured two and half hours of the activities that still distress me more than anything.

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