I wish I knew what I could do in here by myself. I'm looking around and everything looks like more work than my back can handle. But in one corner there's one of the messy stacks of old bills and papers that are everywhere in here and it occurred to me that since I haven't gone near it in at least two years I can go ahead and toss it. It's just the sensory dread of picking up old dusty papers and trying to get into that tight corner.

If I nominated myself for a hoarding program it could all get done. But I don't know if I could deal with being filmed.

I'm so unhappy in this place.