There is night time and then there is darkness. My nights are shrouded by something blacker than the absence of sun.
They call it impulse control. I have none. I am giving in. There are urges that I do not understand. I do know that these impulses call to me under the cover of night. I do not remember what they tell me. I just hear the echoes of their whispers.
You do not want to experience waking up in the morning on the sofa with no clothes on. It is not appropriate for the climate. My skin was blue. A hot shower helped with the shivering but the rusty-looking water falling into the bath disturbed me.
Then there is the matter of the washing machine. I needed to wash towels. The machine was already full. I did not fill it. I did not wash those clothes. I did not empty the detergent so that there was only enough for these towels.
Why is the machine making this grinding noise? What is caught in the mechanism?
I need to watch myself more closely. But how?