Going. Slowing.

.

.

I hit the dishes, again.  Scrubbing to the shine.  It looks like they are clean, so I am rinsing them now.  I'll set the timer for two hours.  As much because I am tiring, as because I want to give them plenty of time.  I have the next load collected.  It is very small, but... rough.  A soapy soak, dumping that water, then a fresh soapy soak, and a wash.  Hopefully that will be enough.

The last load of laundry is in the dryer.  One more short finishing spin and it should be done?  Who can ever be sure, but probably.

If I can get to boxes, that will be later.  After dishes, after laundry, after a shower, perhaps while the last load of dishes is soaking, or being rinsed.  I have little areas, everywhere, where a box or dozen might help at least neaten the area enough to be, and look, more pleasant.

I might not be able to do the big areas, or hit things without getting lost in details.  But I am putting in everything I have got to give.  I can't keep this up, not only am I not a marathon runner, I'm also neither a sprinter nor intermediate racer.  I'm a couch potato... by health, age, and else at this point.  So... yeah.  Still, it's a possible way out of the trap.

Now, to fix something to eat.  One more taco salad?  If so, then the meat goes out.  It's... done.  Not really hungry, but that isn't always why one eats.  I need food, especially as I push on through.  Wow.  What a day, and several weeks.  I feel like I am stuck in a tornado.  Riding it, like that cowboy of old lore.  With a rattlesnake whip!

Yea.  Yea, I'll... get something to eat.  Watch a show.  Do some more gaming.  Hit chores, more gaming.  Then dishes, and maybe on to boxes.  Amen.