Mouldy tuna nightmares

I'm going to tell you something terrible. Something that I am ashamed to admit to. It involves tuna.

Months ago, I made a sandwich. It was delicious, all my sandwiches are. Sandwich making is one of my few skills in life. I made an awesome mix of tuna, cheese and mustard and as there was too much for one, I put the rest in a bowl in the fridge. I then left it there.

I just left it there.

For days.

Weeks.

Months. I'd say it's been a couple of months.

I can't even tell you why. I am an adult. In the time it has been in there festering, I have cleaned my house. I know I haven't cleaned it as much as I should and every time I do clean I congratulate myself. A grown woman, saying 'Well done, you cleaned up your own filth!' I know it's pathetic, but motivation is seriously eluding me. I don't even think I'm that lazy. If something needs to be done, I used to be able to just get it done with, but more and more I find myself putting things off. Procrastinating, sitting, staring into space, having a lie down, eating ice cream, thinking 'hmmm I really should throw out that tuna, but I think the couch really needs my attention right now.'

Today I found my motivation. The tuna had to go, as did the new forms of life it was spawning. A few seconds later and it was all gone. Not sure what the fuss had been about really. Of course I congratulated myself. Well done, adult woman, you have successfully performed the role of 'normal person'. I hate that this is how I measure myself some days. Have I been able to perform a normal human task?

I just want these things to happen without breaking into song.

I think that motivation goes hand in hand with concentration and both of those things have gone off for a break, leaving me to flounder a little. Of course there are many more examples of this than just the tuna incident. The tuna was just the most fitting anecdote. It's way less interesting to know that I started a new book two weeks ago and haven't gotten past the first 5 pages. Mouldy tuna nightmares are far more interesting.

Finding the motivation to continue this blog has been a struggle. I love writing it, I find it therapeutic and beyond helpful, but I have to make myself do it. Despite it being way more pleasurable than cleaning the bathroom, the motivation to do either is almost as hard to find. I don't know when my motivation will return and I hope isn't gone for good. I just need to know that whilst it may feel like it will never change, my life won't always require a Cliff Richard soundtrack every time I take the bin out. In fact, the threat of that is motivation enough.