I just took a shower. This should normally make me feel better. But somehow it doesn't. I've been looking around at the house, and it stuns me how much of a literal metaphor this house has become for my life. It's a work in progress, but work stopped a long time ago.

I'm not getting off on a poor Wic routine. Really, it just depresses me that we live in piles of junk. Mara isn't much of a cleaner. Mama isn't much of a cleaner anymore. And when I come home, I don't have the heart to start trying to dig our way out of the junk piles that sit all over the house. But in the end, I know it's going to come down to me doing something about this. If I was home every night and ever weekend, I already would have.

But I can't let my being gone all the time be an excuse. I need to start making better use of my time when I am home. I need to stay away from the computer, and away from online games when I'm at home. I need to start addressing the one hundred and one things that are wrong with and around this house. If I don't we're just going to rot away here.

We'll see. I plan to put back a little money and work on the bathroom the next time I'm home. We'll never afford the BathCrest stuff now, but we can afford a vinyl liner if I put it in myself. We can't afford actual tile now, but we can afford vinyl tile. We've already bought the paint. The only other things we'll need are a mirror to go over the sink and possibly a new light fixture.

So we'll see. I have a long history of making big plans and then never getting off of my ass. But I really don't like what our lives have become. And in the end, I know that I'm the only one who will ever be able to dig us out of this.