Despite my gimp status, I am thankfully at least able to shower, though I usually have to put my foot up right after and “rest.”
Today, I sat on a chair so I could elevate my foot up on the bed. And then I saw it. On the bed. In the middle, where I couldn’t reach it. Cat barf.
Over the last several of days I have been medium good about not obsessing chores I can’t do – in no small part because Scott and Sophie, knowing my aversion (to put it mildly) to clutter, have been picking things up with devotion (so. very. grateful.).
But this was a real test of my OCD.
Thanks for the therapy, Oliver.