If a cow ever got the chance...

I am paralyzed by the smallest things this week--for example there's a whole pile of clean dishes in the dishrack, but I can't put them away for some reason. It seems too complicated. So, because I didn't want the week's worth of dirty dishes to sit in their soaking water over the weekend creating new forms of life, I took them all out of the sink before we left for the weekend and put them on the table, windowsill, kitchen chairs, etc. So now there are all these perfectly-dry-but-crusted-with-old-food pots and pans on every available kitchen surface, I have to sit on my futon to eat, and the clean dishes STILL aren't put away. Sometimes I am manic and everything is spotless, but then sometimes it just gets like this.

I had written a much better entry but on reflection, I can't post it, no matter how witty and long-suffering it makes me out to be. Because if you have issues with someone you should at least attempt to work them out with that person first rather than giving them a public airing on Diaryland. I suppose this is called maturity. It's kind of annoying.

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