Not that I'm bitching, mind you. My life's a mess because I've made it that way. Now I lie in it. All the time, every day, that's what I do. I lay in all my shit that is my life, too lazy to lift a finger and change the direction it's going in. Wallowing in my own filth. Sure, there are days I perk up a bit, give myself a good pep talk, put on my salsa/merengue playlist (mmm, sounds yummy, like a spicy mango tart) and get to tackling some part of my life that needs fixing. I'll focus on laundry or sweeping, or furtively wiping every visible non-porous surface with Clorox wet wipes, and that'll last about... I dunno, four to six hours? Then I flop back in exhaustion and go back to making jigsaw puzzles on my phone, listen to political comedy podcasts and scratch the lint out of my bellybutton. And so time passes.