My allergies and asthma have been bothering me all day today. I pretty much felt like I'd been run over by a Mack truck. A Benadryl here and a Benadryl there, and I think I'll be okay tomorrow. I really wish I didn't react like this when I'm around Bugster and Bubster's dog. I miss her terribly, as she used to belong to us, but I can't even pet her when I'm over there. I pay for it dearly, if I do. I pay regardless, but it is worse, if I've been loving on her.
At one point this morning, I thought about going out to work on the porch, but it was just too hot. It's supposed to be a bit cooler the next few days, so I'm hoping to get out there and get some more accomplished. I may try to just get one more bag of trash ready for pickup on Wednesday. Every little bit helps me mentally.
Every little bit helps physically, too. It gives me less to trip on.
I hate having things too near my feet. It makes me strain my back, because I know it's there, and I'm trying to avoid it subconsciously. Hubster has a habit of unpacking his lunch cooler and leaving it on the floor in the kitchen. But the floor space in our kitchen is literally less than 5 feet square. You can't open the stove and the dishwasher at the same time, because there wouldn't be any room for you to load or unload either of them. There just isn't much space at all.
So when the cooler is sitting in front of the stove, and I'm loading the dishwasher, I can sense it there. Ready to trip me. Bending over to load the dishwasher hurts my back anyway, but just knowing the cooler is there has my back so tense I'm a mess. I realize I'm a mess. I know my back hurts. But for some reason, I usually don't pay any attention to it until my back starts going into a mild spasm. Then I feel like kicking myself for not noticing it and just moving it out of the way when I came in the kitchen in the first place.
Another thing that kills my back is having stuff in front of my feet when I need to bend over - like to make the bed. If there are shoes in the way that prevent my feet from going under the edge of the bed, it just kills me. Or showering the girls in the bathtub, because I have no room for my feet, and I have to bend so far over my feet to reach what I need. I try to only shower them in the shower, but sometimes I have to use the bathtub's shower instead. I always end up hardly being able to move when I'm done.
The back porch has been like that for years. I've hated it with a passion, but I've lacked the stamina to get much of anything done, because of my back. However, we were able to accomplish so much with the porch on Saturday that I'm hopeful that I'll be able to get some more done on my own, or with a bit of Hopper's help. She feels so important helping me out even, if it's just getting more Gatorade or bringing her radio along for us to have something to listen to. And Scooter loves sitting there and hanging out with her family.
So I really, really want to get this porch cleared off completely. I want to spend time with the girls outside enjoying ourselves and not being consumed by guilt, because there is so much on the porch.
Yep. I think I'll be working out there this week for sure.
Compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder that is just beginning to be understood. As a hoarder, I have acquired things over the years with a specific purpose in mind at the time of the acquisition, used some of those items for their intended purposes, forgotten the goal for different objects, but now that I find that they have outlived their purpose in my life I am struggling to rid myself of those same things.
You can read the start of my journey here.