Happy, happy, happy.
I’m so happy I could vomit all over the place.
Being this content, I’ve discovered, is not necessarily conducive to being busy, or organised. It’s been a slow dawning realisation over the last four weeks that most of my cleanliness, my routine, my keeping-on-top-of-things, is firmly rooted in anxiety and taking my mind off other stuff.
A veritable lack of anxiety or depression or even passive irritation has meant that I’ve spent the last week or two wandering around in my own little fairy world. La la la la la la la.
Being disorganised and not even caring is lovely.
La la la la.