At the health clinic today, where I was given a thorough examination so the government of Canada can decide whether I will be a nuisance to their health-care system (and consequently whether I will be allowed to stay here), I read a sign on the wall. It explained the symptoms of Alzheimer’s, and it struck me that I am prone to every single one of those symptoms. Forgetfulness, difficulty completing menial tasks, short-tempered, irritable, and un-motivated were the ones I particularly recall.

When I pointed out to Poor Kyle that I think I have Alzheimer’s, he smugly replied, “No you don’t. You’re 21. What you have is PMS.”

[Okay, he didn’t really say that. I made it up for comedic purposes. But he did disagree that I don’t actually have Alzheimer’s.]

I got to thinking about how un-motivated I have been, of late. I realised today I can’t remember the last time I mopped the kitchen floor.

“Well, it’s annoying to mop the kitchen while I’m in the process of painting the cabinets, because it’ll be dirty again in an hour, what with my traipsing in-and-out all day,” I rationalised.

And, “My kitchen is going to look like this:

whether I mop or not, so why does it matter if my floors look like this:

I mean, What’s the point?”

Excuses, excuses.

Maybe I can rationalise the state of the kitchen, because I do have all the drawers emptied out on my counter top while they’re being refinished.

But that mess has expanded into the entryway…

…down the hall…

…into our bedroom…

It has also extended the opposite direction, attacking the laundry room…

sewing room…

back deck…

and garage.

In other words, my life is a mess.

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