I remember a time not so long ago, before my health went to hell, when challenges fired me up and acted as an incentive. Now, I almost wilt before them and they ignite nothing but a disheartening procrastination.
In 10 days we will be moved into our new place. I sit here after two days of painting and I wonder how the hell I'm going to do this without dying. After a day of complete rest, I'm still exhausted. There's just so much to do. This week is supposed to be dedicated to painting and next week to moving all of the small stuff over. But there's no way I can go paint today; I'll be lucky if I get my laundry done. Nothing's packed and there's still this house to clean. Who's going to load and unload all of the furniture? We have a piano, washer and dryer, dresser, and a china hutch, for crying out loud, and no one's volunteering. Hell, there IS no one to volunteer and we can't afford movers or cleaners.
I feel like crawling under a rock.