I read somewhere recently that one thing you don’t realise about chronic illness is how downright filthy your house gets. Holy Crap. I didn’t see it until I turned the light on. Someone kill it with fire.
I recommend that all chronically ill people keep lighting low in their house. Claim and its mood lighting, or to reduce sensory overload or something. J is away for a few nights to attend a family funeral, so before he left, I asked him to replace the ensuite lightbulb that popped this morning. The bulb he’s put in must be a higher wattage than the old one (like the freakin’ sun is in our ceiling) and wow, our bathroom is disgusting – I can’t believe we actually go in there to get clean.
I just had to tell someone. I am utterly horrified. I guess it will come in handy when I’m having my monthly leg shave or tending to my monobrow. For the rest of the time I might need to invest in some sunglasses for pooping…
P.s. No photos in this post because I am genuinely a bit embarrassed.