Uffda

oh dear. The day of crap has turned into the week of crap, and I am now trying to convince myself that it is not turing into any longer crap. crap.
I daydream of far away paradisiac islands with food dump once a day. (and also a fully funcional toilet with flusher under a palm three where I can do my thing and enjoy the sunset.)(and soft toilet paper)
Failing that I am happy to stay at home doing nothing and preferably in bed, under the covers. Not dealing with anything.
I am happy to report I am still showering, but the appetite is dwindling. Everything is just such an effort. If it was not for the fact that I cook food for A, I would not have eaten much at all. Defietivly a self-apreciation-self-love issue going on here. Namely, somewhere inside me there is this nasty old aunt that does not believe I can do It or Handle It.

uffda