This morning I woke up at 4:45 am. I didn't cough up a storm. I could see out of both eyes. I could breathe. For the first time in a month, I felt normal. I felt like myself. I lay in bed thinking about the previous night when my Dad had dropped me off at my apartment and helped me carry in a box filled with pots and pans. When he walked in my apartment his response was, "Jesus Christ Lindsay..." but he stopped there letting my own shame take over.... I, on the other hand, had guilt. Major daughter guilt. Like, how could I let him see my place this messy! It was bad. In my own defense...yes, I had clothes on the floor and needed to take out the trash last week, but I have been very sick and very busy and well...haven't spent a whole lot of time in my apartment so...yes. It was a mess.
So this morning, I got out of bed, completely cleaned and antibacterialized (it's a word now okay? I do this....making up words thing...) my entire apartment. I even vacuumed. Then I showered, blowdried my hair, got ready for work, and headed out the door. I even went to a different Starbucks and I didn't listen to music at all (okay yes I left my earbuds at work but still...I'm progresso-ing).
And to be Frank about it... I can't wait to come home, make myself dinner and just have some down time just me, myself and I.