I may have hit a new low.
I had a spectacular case of the flu a few weeks ago, which sidelined me for about ten days, then I was busy doing makeup on a couple of film shoots (no big deal. If you want to see a bit of what I did, take a look at my brand new business page on FB!), and then promptly after that I was hit with a crushing depression that has had me crying non-stop for about five days (except, oddly, when I went to see Les Miserables. During that movie I was all "meh."). My goal this week has simply been to get out of bed and go to work.
She'll probably be okay.
Of course, in my sickness/busyness/depressed-ness, I have let a lot of household chores go. My dishes are piling up, something in my refrigerator smells REALLY bad, and there are dirty clothes all over my floor. Since my only goal is to get to work each day this week, I have left the dishes disgustingly strewn about my apartment, and have yet to identify the stinky thing in my fridge. They frown upon showing up to work with no pants on, so I have not been able to completely ignore the clothing issue. I have managed to find clean stuff in the depths of my closet leading up to this morning, but today I found myself without a desirable pair of pants. I was NOT going to wear dress pants, and I have worn all of my jeans at least twice at this point. So I did what any sad, single, cat-owning person would do. I dug into my laundry basket to resurrect a should-have-been-washed-some-time-ago pair of pants. The pants I wore on one of the film shoots. The pants I wore while standing in a very small kitchen while a large batch of bacon was being cooked.
I looked for any visible spots or stains- none. I thought "if these don't smell too bacon-y I will wear them for work." And then I did it. I smelled them for bacon. Not only did I smell them for bacon, I was mildly sad when they DIDN'T smell like bacon. I WAS SAD THAT MY DIRTY PANTS DIDN'T SMELL LIKE BACON. And then, because they didn't smell like bacon, I didn't even Febreeze them and now I am wearing fucking dirty neither fresh-smelling nor bacon-y pants to work.
On the bright side, putting this shame into writing may have given me the push I need to at least do some damned laundry this weekend (and I will be forced to find the rotting item in my fridge because that shit is RANK).