I did his morning care, but nothing else. Kitchen is still a mess. Arm is still sore.

Plus, I've stayed in bedroom, leaving him alone in living room in front of the TV. I never do this, but I feel hard-hearted. I don't want to hear the discontented sighs he lets out when he's bored. That's supposed to be my cue to do something to make his day better. I usually try and typically succeed. Not today.

I think I could try some pain pills and some Ritalin to try and feel less depressed. Then go tackle the kitchen. I try to think of something to look forward to . . . try to tell myself that, if I get up and take care of things, I will feel better and have a better evening later. But I'm just crying and feel l can't get caught up and that I can't make my life better. I'll try the pills first.