Four square feet at a time. 

Communicating to my husband could be misconstrued as a secret code. If we were to have a conversation in front of strangers, they would not have a clue what we were saying. 


“I’m exhausted. I cleaned and I’m not cooking dinner. In fact, I’m not moving any more today. Good luck with my mess. Peace Out ✌🏼️”

In my defense, the chronic pain cognitive behavioral therapy video I shared yesterday said to quit when I start hurting. Realistically, if I followed those rules, I would have quit before I began. So, I compromised and cleaned till my bones ached. 

Since I’ve stopped taking my antidepressants, (doctor approved) I’ve been more motivated and the details matter. So, I’ve been deep cleaning. Four square feet at a time. 

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4 thoughts on “Four square feet at a time. 

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