So mum comes back tomorrow after ten days in the barbarian hinterlands of the north (Scotland). I’m quite pleased with myself. The house is spotless, the fridge looks like a German organised it, three square meals have been provided and all by moi. One of the great worries about having bipolar disorder is always, for me, if I could ever live independently and actually, I can seriously adult when I want to.
I’m puzzled by the contrast between my room and the rest of the house though. It seems that I’m a clean freak, especially in the kitchen, but feel zero motivation to clean my room. Literally I only tidied up yesterday because there was a someone coming over for sex which, apart from hypomania, is about the only the only thing that will ever motivate me to clean up my room.