I just don't know.

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It's not like I don't know what I should, or am supposed, to do.  It's not like I don't want to do it.  It is simply that I truly can't do it.  Not right now.  I'm all tripped up.  Further, my mother is coming soon, I have a friend who wants to visit, and I still have an air conditioner to put in and drapes to put up, a home to clean at least to human standards, an hot water heater to buy and install, and a credit issue with the hospital to negotiate.  But I can't seem to... do anything.  It's not even like this all snuck up on me.  I can't even take my medicines regularly.

I actually wish this was merely because I was lazy, a drunk, or something.  Those things can be fixed.  I am not sure if what is wrong with me can be fixed.  Is it the heart?  Is it the lifestyle I have learned in order to survive?  My body does it's own thing, relegating me (my will, my intellectual self) to the proverbial children's table.  What I want comes behind... survival instinct?  Something.  So, why won't it let me put the ac in?  Hmm?  Bastage.  Heh.

What gets done is what will get done.  As I have mentioned, I have learned to relax and not push, even while I continue to try, plan, aim, and work.  It seems like an impossible mission.  I think... nuanced... would be a better term for it than impossible or even improbable.  Much like war, actually, if you get really good at it.  At times your body will be in full rage but your mind and actions within the allotted permittance, are completely yours and professional.  It is an odd thing.  Animal and... not animal... working in conjunction in a way that I am not even sure was ever intended.  It is, in a word, mastery... of self.  I had once thought this part of me had broken, but now I see it is merely a physical issue.  In one sense, it doesn't matter.  Broken is broken.  On the other hand, it allows me to... attempt to regain what aspects of that are still available.  Oh, these are both fleshly things, not of the spirit, soul.  But... there may be some connection.  A moral killer?  Something.

Well, it's bed time.  I've been up too long.  I let the cats sleep with me last night and Sam, finding herself unable to wake me (after a mere six hours of sleep, so it wasn't like she could have been starving since I fed her all day before and right before bedtime).  She retched right near me, on my bed!  If this had been an accident, or just something that happens, I wouldn't have minded (as much).  But this was purposeful.  So, she is exiled to the out of doors until I wake up later today.  Any time she does that, on purpose, to pout or wake me, or such, willfully, she will be exiled.  I bet that breaks the habit before it starts.  Angry.

Good night, and morning.