My mom and my younger sister left Friday afternoon, and woke me up to give last-minute instructions for taking care of the house, which involved feeding our two dogs upstairs and the five cats downstairs. After they left, I celebrated my officially being alone by eating my late lunch accompanied by red wine. I was properly drunk on my third glass. Good wine, that, spicy and full-bodied.
Saturday was spent at the Primo Rivera Spa, where I got to enjoy an amazing sauna session with full amenities, including a web-ready computer, where I had the privelege of being intimate with my favorite invoices from my favorite suppliers. I'm deluding myself, of course, as I spent it at work, under sweltering conditions. The AC units don't operate on holidays.
I planned to get up early this Easter morning and spend it purging the house of the dirt that three day's neglect had accumulated. It has long been my plan to perform spring cleaning on this holiday, Easter, being symbolic of new life and new beginnings. What I hadn't counted on was dreaming on Easter morining, and about Rebel, of all things. I woke up feeling heavy and depressed, and, instead rising up to perform my intended functions for the day, I sulked the time away, not rising on my bed, and just watching the last 20 episodes of Shamman King on my laptop.
It was a good thing that I was near completion of that series before this happened, or else, I might not have risen at all today. As it stood, I started my cleaning rituals by 3pm, way behind my schedule. I didn't do a good job at cleaning, I know. I was lacking in time and the necessary drive to effectively perform said functions, thus my actions were woefully half-hearted and not up to par. I'm tired, and I haven't even started cleaning my room, the last on my list of things to do, and arguably the one that would use up the most time.
I have decided to delay the purging of my room for another day. I am now lacking the necessary physical strength and emotional fortitude to perform said function. Cleaning my room involves openning up lost and forgotten boxes filled with memories and lingering feelings. My current depressive state would not protect me from whatever repercussion openning those boxes might bring.