I’ve been fighting a wicked case of messed-up-moods lately. Between the PTSD and the PMS, I am PO’D in the biggest way possible. It was hard to care about anything.
The other day this came to a head in what apparently counts as a flashback (even if I didn’t have any intrusive thoughts of THAT particular nature). To make sure that I’d never have to deal with what brought it on again, I single-handedly moved EVERY PIECE OF FURNITURE in my apartment. I took things down.
I re-hung curtains.
…well, curtain. I have ONE curtain to my name and I’ve hung it in front of the pantry. Looks much better than the sheet I’d had safety-pinned up there.
I moved the cedar chest—three times, actually—before figuring “Bugger it, I’ll move something else.”
So I picked up the bookshelf (you read that right—I picked up the entire shelf) and carried it to the other side of the apartment. Bing bang boom popcorn—new corner space.
I reassembled the little coffee table that I’d lost room for and moved it into the corner, creating a little workspace that I could use as an ‘office area.’ Sure, there’s a TV on one side of it, but it is at such an angle that watching from where I sit is impossible—well, maybe not impossible, but it’s headache inducing.
Then I moved a chest of drawers out of the pantry (neat trick, seeing as getting it IN there in the first place was difficult) and put it in the ‘closet.’ The cedar chest went in front of that.
Almost as soon as I’d placed the last piece of furniture where it needed to go, I felt better. The place looks bigger, and less cluttered. I can think without those strange thoughts popping in and wreaking havoc upon my poor brains.
I’m going to see if I can get more word count done now. Maybe I’ll be able to come up with something.