I did laundry last night, and I cried afterwards, because holy hell, laundry is exhausting. Especially the way I do it – the way where you postpone it until your laundry closet won’t close anymore, which is something of a feat considering how bloody big that cupboard is without the standard washing machine that most people might think to put in it. (Most people not being me, because I am not in a position in my life where I feel ready to own a washing machine. Or an iron. Or a toaster.)
Earlier this week I had a day off work, and at some point lying in fetal position in a fuzzy blanket on the couch got little stifling. (I know, right? That’s got to be a first because, me, the couch, and fuzzy blankets? We’re like that at the moment.)
So anyway, the couch got boring, so instead I thought “you know what? Maybe I’ll put on pants and walk down to see the landlords horses.” It took another two hours before I managed to actually move from the planning phase to the phase where I was wearing pants, but still. That’s better than Monday, where I didn’t get to the phase where there were pants. At all.
Once I’d actually managed to get myself moving, the visit with the horses was awesome – which pretty much goes without saying. I mean, as a teenager I helped out at Riding for the Disabled, where basically I’d go and pick up horse poop with a pitchfork and a wheelbarrow for a couple of hours every Saturday. Without fail, it was the highlight of my week.
So yesterday I’m hanging out getting my horse-time in and the horses are all ‘Dude I’m going to lick your arms for some reason.’ I was cool with it though, because it turns out I’ll put up with a surprising amount just to hang out with horses. Including slobber and poop.
There’s no real point to any of the stories here. I’m point-adjacent, rather than point-centric. I think if I was going to have a point, though, my point would be that sometimes when you’re depressed you have to do shit you don’t want to, because having clean underwear is important. But then sometimes it’s about not doing the crap you can’t deal with, and instead going to pat horses because that’s the only thing that made you feel good that day, and that’s a thing worth putting pants on for.
Yeah. Like I said. Point-Adjacent.