This idea shamelessly stolen from missrachael: Your life, uncen

[kellinator]

"Do you ever feel like everyone else is much better than you are at the business of everyday life - that other people don't have to brush cat litter off their feet before they get into bed, and other people's children don't have dressers with one drawer that won't open (because their mothers were smart enough not to buy their nursery furniture at IKEA), and other people can manage to cook tasty, healthy food for their families every day without spending too much money on groceries, and still have time to do the laundry too?

Do you feel like this makes those people's lives not just more convenient than yours, but also morally superior to yours?

I didn't think so, but I am crazy that way, so help me out for a minute here. Please comment and tell me about one detail of your life that is completely out of control."

I'll start:

My apartment is a disaster area. I wouldn't even dream of having anyone over, and my mom would disown me if she saw it. Despite the special covered litter box with the litter catcher and the special mat underneath, the cats track litter everywhere, and even our clean clothes are covered with a layer of cat hair, because they like to sleep in the laundry basket, which is usually where I pitch the clean clothing. There are currently three days' worth of dishes in the sink, since James is not doing so well on his side of the chores since he started the 56-hour workweek (not that I expect him to; that's a lot of work) and I'm just lazy. The sad part is it's much better than last week's dishes, which took a full hour of my weekend. I'm constantly misplacing things and taking hours to find them, and the saddest part of all is that even though it makes me depressed to look around, I just can't find the motivation to clean and organize it, especially knowing we'd all just mess it up again anyway.

Your turn.

Comments

[paradisacorbasi.livejournal.com]

One? AHAHAHHAAHAHA.

My weight. It yo-yos with my mental state, and since number the times I'm depressed by far ...outweigh...the number of times I'm not, I tend to be fat.

I have bad knees, bad ankles, and a bad back, so exercise is painful and torturous, which makes me not want to do it.

But society and my mother and my self esteem and my doctor in that order insist I should lose weight, but the doing of that is also painful and torturous, because I am either starving all the time and therefore miserable, or unsatisfied all the time because diet food [although it has improved greatly since my teens] is often bleah and frequently not what I most like to eat.

I also can't afford to go to a gym, and working out on machines doesn't keep me motivated anyway. If it feels like exercise, I will hate the pain and the sweat and lose interest.

So I'm within 20 pounds of 300, and I hate it. I hate myself. I hate that I don't have the willpower to just "suck it up" like everybody else seemingly can, and just do what it takes.

[celeloriel.livejournal.com]

...Are you secretly reading my mind and posting my secret thoughts VERBATIM?!

*boggled*