• 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 — pairs o’ pants
• 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15 — various shirts
• 16. Another thing of Salon Pas
• 17. Curling Iron
• 18. Boxer shorts/pj’s
• 19. Black purse
• 20. Cat calendar
• 21. “N” necklace
• 22. Broken refrigerator magnet
• 23. Tractor Stickers*
• 24. Bunny Ears*
• 25. Cat-destroyed book (Change up!)
• 26. Dental rinse from a hotel from at least 6 years ago
• 27. Clear fingernail polish
• 28. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

It seems this week that I’ve only had three accomplishments:

1. I survived my first official week of steroids. Wasn’t awake through most of it, but I survived.
2. I did make my 28 things this week.
3. I now have a much thinned-out closet and two entirely empty closet shelves.

There is the fact that I’m less likely to burn down the house via the curling iron–something I was too afraid to use because 1/2 the time, it didn’t come on, and 1/2 the time the auto-shut off feature didn’t work, and I never seemed to remember to unplug it.

So there’s that.

This has been a week full of off for me. Everything has felt off.  I feel like I’m swirling in chaos, with everything being off, and I can’t find the energy or the quiet to write it back on again.

Togetherness has felt like void; attempted quietude has felt like a Tool concert from the nosebleed seats: enough to recognize the rhythm but just short of being able to interpret the lyric.

There is a huge gap between the life I have and the life I want. I know what I need to do to move toward that life, and, yet, here I am, off.

I don’t even have a picture of this week’s stuff.  I didn’t get it posted on Sunday.

Off. Off.

Normally, I’d wait until it came around full circle again: I started off; I finished on, and so there’s that.

Not this week. Still off.

196 things out of my house, and it’s still in chaos.

Fitting, maybe.