Even making small changes to one’s living environment can be a challenge when you live with a respiratory condition. Last night, as I failed to drift off to sleep, I reimagined my lounge with the sofa in a different place, something I’ve never altered in four and a half years of living here. Eventually I did sleep, inevitably I woke late and had things to do in town but an hour before needing to be anywhere so I started to pull bits of furniture around.
Correction. I tried to pull bits of furniture around. A desk I need to move isn’t too heavy but requires a lot of decluttering and for various leads to be detangled behind it. And when you’re down there at ground level scrabbling around with twisted cables you notice dust you’ve happily ignored when it’s only your feet that ordinarily have to spend time in that vicinity. So you get out the vacuum cleaner. And you remember that kicking up dust as well as the act of vacuuming is something respiratory conditions fucking hate. And you cough. And you curse. A lot.
What I’ve ended up with is an extremely untidy lounge which now needs serious rearrangement. But in which a smallish corner is now relatively dust free. Most of the dust now being in my lungs. Oh ha ha.
One of the things I was going to do later today was a large grocery shop because I’ve been existing on small trips for a few days’ worth of groceries since I got back from Ohio. This now seems like a plan that needs delaying until I’ve spent the next day or two reorganising my living space in a now familiar process that goes something like this: perform small menial task such as moving a printer from its current location to a temporary location until the desk has been re-sited; sit down and catch breath; check mess surrounding me for next thing to move; move said thing; sit down and catch breath; wish I were a minimalist; determine next small task; perform it; sit down and catch breath.
With each task the sitting down gradually takes up more time until I reach the point where I wish I hadn’t temporarily relocated some of the crap I’ve been moving around to my bed as I really want to have a lie down. At this point I properly wish I were a minimalist. Or that I lived in a cave with some straw for a bed and berries for lunch. Then I feel a bit sorry myself. Then I tell myself to get on with it. Then I start again.
I wish I were a minimalist cave-dweller.