Paper Plates……..

One thing that depression has always screwed with is my ability to do mundane things like dishes.

When I rented my first apartment back in 1990 my dishes would often pile up and it would take quite the effort to get at them.

And it was always the same over the years.

The worst times would be when I would fill the sink up with water and soap and then just not get around to washing the dishes and I’d come back a few days later with bowls and glasses full of scum and mould.

Needless to say I migrated over to ready to eat meals from Safeway or IGA. Nuke the shit and then throw the remnants out.

Years ago I even went a step further and I got rid of all of my dishes. Now all I have is disposable cutlery, disposable paper plates, and occasionally disposable bowls.

I have a little Nespresso machine for making coffee. This thing is the ultimate machine for a person with depression that just can’t be bothered to really give a fuck. Buy the pods, use the pods, put the pods in a recycling bag, take pods back to store.

I still eat ready-to-eat meals from Safeway or IGA. Sure, I could probably save money making my own sandwiches at home instead of buying them pre-made at the store, but I would lose interest so fast that the food would turn into penicillin in the fridge. It might even evolve and gain sentience.

Besides, I never really learnt to cook as a kid. And I have even less interest in cooking as an adult.

As I’ve said before, depression and anxiety are a massive mind fuck.

The one oddity that I’ve always had is the floors of my apartment are immaculate. I hate dust. I go out of my way to rent apartments with hardwood floors. They’re easy to care for. A good broom, or a swifter, or my handy little Dyson. I love vacuuming the fuck out of the floor.

I’ve lived in this particular apartment since June of 2011.

It’s a nice little bachelor apartment. Somewhere between 12 to 14 square metres.

The hardwood floors have been a blessing.

When I moved into this apartment I bought all new furniture. But that only lasted for so long. I ended up disposing of most of the furniture within the year. Too much clutter. It was calling to me to use it, but I can’t stay in my apartment for very long. I need the noise and the hustle and the bustle of outside to keep my brain distracted and from focusing on the past.

So my furniture sat there reminding me of the fact that things in my anxiety riddled brain would never calm down enough to let me enjoy my furniture.

I had a small collection of books that I never got around to reading. So they went to the donation bins. The same fate awaited my CD collection and my DVD collection. I had amassed CDs and DVDs, but I could never bring myself to watch them.

I ended up reducing my apartment to only my bed, my computer desk, and a nightstand.

Now with a minimal of possessions in my apartment I find it very easy to not get distracted or annoyed.