Weekends make me anxious.

Okay, a lot of things make me anxious. But weekends tend to trigger me because I don't have much of a routine set, so I fret about wasting time—especially when, like this morning, I slept in about three hours later than I wanted to. The laundry machines are all full and I won't be able to do a load before my radio show, but I have taken out some recycling and started throwing stuff I don't need into a big garbage bag. That is nice and cathartic and anxiety-reducing, since I want to move cities with as little clutter as possible. I've tried Unfuck Your Habitat several times, and never made it a proper routine. Cleaning is one of the first things to go when I have a depressive spiral, so now that I feel a little better thanks to the med adjustment I'm slowly going to climb back up that trash-laden mountain.

I think I can justify a little slacking off this morning/early afternoon, since I'm going to be so busy tonight and tomorrow. So that's where I'm at right now.