the pounding ache to get a charity trolley drop off, offloaded on the manic morn of a Monday on the way to visit the duty prescriber at the reopening of a doctors surgery. The weave in and out of the early morners.
I was really feeling it by now, the irony in the timing at the start of the weekend. A day I will go with the flow ... I have the need to get rid of more. I would very much not like to waste any more time here.
The logistics say otherwise the need in steady and slow to recuperate. The soon to be more fresh air. The stench of mould on arrival back reminds one. This is never not ever heeded.
Another irony in the constraints in that clear not concluded in the first instance.
And the Christmas plans in place too, now. At least the battles of not holding on to things does not happen with the person now deceased ... It is the volume. The neglect in failing to believe my needs. And the anger of why was it left like this... One person when everyone found it overwhelming too ...
And I think I am illogical ...
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