As my wife put it, this past week has felt like a month, but this weekend disappeared immediately. Yesterday she and I deep cleaned the old apartment to hand it back. We’ve been taking care of our girlfriend during her FFS recovery. We’re still getting the house in order. There’s three cats that need to be managed. The background of this fucking country killing itself. Insomnia even with sleep meds that actually work. And I’m climbing a million stairs per day. I’m hitting a limit.

Interestingly it’s not just a physical chronic fatigue limit, my mind is rebelling at the idea of any more work. Largely because I know more work will fuck me up physically potentially irreversibly. But it’s new that my thought processes have switched from “I wish I could could keep going” to “I need to fucking stop or else.”

I need to talk to everyone about this. I need to rest in so many ways. This entire past month since we closed on the house has been non stop fucking balls to the wall action and stress.

I’m done. I can’t keep it up. I have to stop.