Progress and AntiProgress

Sir Terry Pratchett argued convincingly that everything must have it’s opposite. Not just the light-dark opposite, but the opposite that goes through the conventional, traditional opposite and out the other side.

We have progress. What I’m having is a kind of anti-progress that has gone through retention and out the other side.

I am getting fit enough to take the dog around two blocks -yay- BUT, on the anti-progress side, I’ve been struck from asthma as a direct result of Mayhem’s Carpet From Hell [coming to a cinema near you!] and literally can’t walk more than a block without wheezing and coming over all blue.

Progress: we got all the filth out of Mayhem’s room. Something of a Herculean task, I can tell you. The Augean Stables were easier.

Antiprogress: Since the Carpet From Hell™ needed to be got rid of, Hubby and Brother-in-Law [aka Normally Shiftless] thought this was a brilliant excuse to renovate. Now I have furniture blocking further progress in getting the house clean and thanks to Mayhem’s hazmat situation I now have two cubic metres of laundry to tackle.

Progress: I’m getting more than five steps in a row before having to stop and re-introduce the hound to the concept of “heel”.

Antiprogress: He gets the idea that when I stop, he should be next to/behind me, but hasn’t connected the command with the action. Thus my entire walk is me saying “heel” practically nonstop for fifteen or so minutes. The word is losing all meaning.

Progress: Chaos is starting to help with small household cleaning tasks.

Antiprogress: it mostly consists of grabbing the nearest sponge or towel and wiping five square centimetres of countertop. Adorable, but useless.

Progress: I think I’m getting the household to start picking up after themselves

Antiprogress: There’s still vast swathes of “That’s not mine” when I’m after whoever left a mess. One day, I shall get them to clean the mess they see.

Of course, one day, the sun will grow cold and die… but I hope I can achieve that goal before then.

It’s a constant, uphill slog. I’m tired of it.

I can hold out the hope that I’ll get there, and achieve a lovely house and keep it that way… But I was nearly there… and now my house is once more crammed with stuff I have to get out of the way.

Some times, it makes me want to cry.

Crying never got anything done. Guess I have to get up and just do it.

Because no-one else will.