Stewing in My Own Funk

I've been in a funk lately.  For the past few months, I've been able to muster only slightly more energy than the absolute minimum needed to support life-sustaining activities like breathing.  I like sitting without moving.  I prefer lying down.  In fact, if I could sleep for 23 hours a day, I would.  When I'm at work or in public, I scrounge up the inner resources to put on a chipper face, but inwardly I'm fantasizing about falling into a coma.  "Why a coma?" my boyfriend asks, "Why not a vacation?"  Because vacations are require planning, packing, getting to the airport, finding shuttles, carrying heavy luggage, and floundering in a foreign language.  A coma requires only a gentle slumping over into oblivion.  You can fall into a coma just sitting at your dining table with a banana peel in your hand.

So, as I sit on my couch each night in my funk, the rest of my life unravels at the edges.  The mail piles up, the laundry doesn't get done, and dustballs the size of my dog accumulate behind the television stand.  My bathroom has declined the most.  It would not surprise me if certain corners of my bathroom are now cultures for new forms of life.  Though, the condition of my bathroom disgusts even me, I suspect I won't bring myself clean it until the day I contract a staph infection.   Even then, it might not be enough.

Here are pics of my bathroom in its current state.


This is my shower.  The green bottle used to hold liquid soap that I used up weeks ago.  You can see a clump of hair, too, that I haven't bothered to pick up.  And I think that's bubonic plague growing by the shower drain.

This is a picture of my sink.  I can't be sure what the brown rime around the drain is made of, but I suspect that it's month-old toothpaste.

This is the area just outside my tub.  The bathroom floor is totally covered in dust and fallen hair.


* Update Post here.