Recovery and Relapse; 41.

Post epiphany. I take some time to clear my mind and calm myself. Let's try and stay on course now. I almost feel a little better about myself but apparently I just completely destroyed all the work I just completed. My mini mountain I just swept has been leveled and the basement is back to filthy. Stay positive. It's a minor setback. Let's focus on the positive. My heart is mighty and it's glowing laser beam of love could blow a whole straight through this planet. A deep dark hole straight to hell. Who cares about sweeping? Fuck it. I can do it later. Good old procrastination bailing me out, so dependable. Let's place progress on hold and and and just stay on track with keeping the wolves of regress at bay. I think I'll go out, that might be positively therapeutic. I head towards the stairs and as my arms swing with each step, I get a little wiff of my arm pits. It's not the greatest smell, it's a kind of mixture of Parmesan cheese and coffee grounds. That old man must have no sense of smell, or was outrageously desperate. I shed my filthy clothes and try to decide on what's the cleanest thing I own. Not a tremendous amount of options. I settle on some less hole-y tan shorts and a plain black t-shirt. I put on some clean-ish high black socks and slip back into my ragged shoes. I dig out an ancient stick of deodorant and scrape the tiny remnants upon my crusty coffee cheesy pits. I might almost be semi-acceptable for a social setting now. .