It’s been a little bit.

I’m not sure if I can commit to the full time of writing today – even though I got up earlier than usual. There’s just so much to do, and while I have been plugging along, I’m just not cutting the mustard when it comes to productivity.

Also, I’m ridiculously ambitious. I’m glad that’s coming back into my life, actually. I just flipped to a browser that had a bunch of extra work in it. OMG. There is a lot to do today, I might bail.

I had dreams last night, I was going back and forth about trying to record them as I let them crumble for a few hours that I wasted trying to go back to sleep, but as I’m not sure what else to talk about other than this skin crawling sense of deadlines creeping up on me, here we go.

Oh, btw, I’m still moving.

I was moving into an apartment, and as always I like to clean the place thoroughly before putting my stuff in it.

It did not feel like a finished apartment. It actually felt like my NH friend’s barn. As a matter of fact, I think they were there. They did not own the barn though, they were just hanging around, drinking hard cider, being awesome, like they normally would be.

Someone else, who may have owned the barn or was the maintenance man on the property or something, was eyeing me suspiciously as I cleaned. The place was filthy, and I was cleaning it.

In particular, there was some corroded grime under the shop sink that I was scrubbing off. He kept telling me not to scrub so hard, and I was pretty much ignoring him. I cleaned thoroughly in the seams, as far into all of the brackets as I could, scrubbed up all the stains as best I could (I have to be more committed in my current apartment – and so glad I called it my current apartment rather than my new apartment, that’s a very good sign, even though I just admired my present decorating job and am not sure how I’m going to recreate this in my new place).

After I had scrubbed the basic school tile as best I could, I threw out diatomaceous earth (didn’t even have to use spell check for diatomaceous, but then typo’d every word within these parentheses. Except parentheses) under the sink. The maintenance man, who was worn, white haired, wirey, and probably even had a slight slow hick accent as one would find in places only slightly more rural than here, the accent we all instantly drop when aren’t either trying to prove our authenticity in rural communities or making a point among friends (code switching isn’t just about Black people, but that’s probably how I got so good at it), asked me what it was. I of course explained. I realized in my explanation that diatomaceous earth is bad for cats, or at least not recommended, and realized that oops, this dude probably had cats.

Because disgusting people have cats. I’m not saying cats are disgusting, people who have cats are disgusting.

There is a particular situation which happens often in my life, because honestly people are disgusting. They think they’ve cleaned, explain to me that I don’t have to, and I clean, and they tell me I don’t have to, and their insistence just melts like the gross waxy buildup all over everything into sadness as they just realize that dude, I have way higher standards for cleanliness than they were taught to have by their mothers and wtf they are disgusting humans and there’s nothing that I will tolerate doing to make them feel one bit better about that. Gross.

I have utterly failed at going back to work. Icy hot adrenaline, like cooling wax, fills my throat and spreads out to each lung.

I feel like I have to concentrate on finishing my move first, then I’m diving back in. There’s a lot of feelings, and I remember that I have things I really have to get done with the business day.

There were two other distinct dream segments I had, one was concerning work – and I’m really beginning to miss my clients, I am starting to realize that they were my best friends and I feel terrible about leaving them, I want them back but I’m not sure how to handle safety – and the other concerning my mother.

Both were great, but I’m almost done my coffee.

I still feel writing here is a worthwhile habit.

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