I came home, slept a few hours and then just have kind of vegetated. What horrifies me the most is that the apartment is so messy. It's just a bunch of stuff out of place, piles of laundry, dishes from the last 2 or 3 meals piled up, unopened mail, unmade beds, clean laundry that never got put away and boxes of supplies for care needs piled here and there, unemptied waste baskets, sticky kitchen counters, clothes not hung up.

I wonder how many other people, prone to depression, find that they become very disorganized after a prolonged episode of feeling demoralized . . . or even after a not so long interval of that. When I'm in a positive frame of mind, I can demonstrate perfectly adequate homemaking/housekeeping skills. I'm actually good at cleaning and organizing. But it astounds me what a disorderly, chaotic environment I can create in less than a week of being in the throes of an emotional downturn. I don't know where to start!

But it can all be sorted out, starting anywhere, just putting things where they belong. It's not like the place got flooded or hit by a tornado. Still, I look around, and I feel intimidated by the size of the task at hand. I think, "Will I ever straighten all this out and get things back to normal? Haven't I just let too much "go by the boards," so that I will never catch up?"

At least he's not here bemoaning how bad the place looks and pointing out what an eyesore every corner of the house is. I won't have that pressure for awhile. I can relax and make a steady effort, without hearing, "When are you going to start this, and when are you going to finish that?" Lately, I've felt under constant pressure: "I need some water. What are you making for dinner? Isn't there a decent movie on TV? I'm cold; can't you turn up the heat? When you gonna vacuum this rug? I thought you were going to write checks today? Do we need all these lights on? Can't you straighten out those throw pillows? Would you mind closing the blinds? You better gas that car up! Do we have anything sweet in the fridge? What are you doing now? How long you gonna be on that computer? I could go for some coffee. Here, take this plate away. Aren't you going to bed soon?" He is not a tyrant, but more like a relentless noodge. It's almost comical. I know he wishes that he could get up and do things, but give me a chance.

I feel kind of at peace now in the apartment alone. I'm telling myself that even a small accomplishment, like getting the dishes done, will make me feel better. I could listen to the radio, and it wouldn't seem so tedious. Once I get the ball rolling, momentum will take over. No one is timing me. I can take breaks. No one will criticise how far I get tonight. Best if all, I have a good two weeks of all that pressure being off me. I can do one thing at a time. When I wake up in the morning, I can sit quietly with a cup of tea. I won't be immediately "on duty."

I think I'm going to be okay. He called from the hospital and he was okay. He told me to take it easy tonight . . . that I didn't have to run back there. That was unselfish of him. I'm very glad I called 911 last night. Now everything isn't on me.