Unedited

Ahhhh.
The end of the day, at last! Finally, when all the world around me goes to sleep, I am left to my own vices and devices. This is the time for quiet contemplation, rest, and writing.

I've been agitated today. I woke up at 6.30am, as per usual, and found that, while it was sweet that Bryan wanted to paint with me last night, it was a stressor waiting to happen. As I stumbled into the library hoping to see my first watercolour of Tyoma with new enough eyes to fix whatever might have gone wrong last night, I saw:
Bryan had left his (my) watercolour brushes in the water overnight. And, the cap of my pointilism pen was off, thus rendering it useless for more than trash. I sat about in silent consternation for most of the day. I usually don't give much attention to material things; for me, form follows function. But for some odd reason, it is a different matter with my art supplies. They are more valuable to me than a thousand perfect emeralds ... more even than that Orb of Henry VIII's I saw when I visited the Crown Jewels in London. Replaceable? Yes. But still I felt a burr in my side whenever Bryan asked me for anything today.
I was out of it most of the day. I silently warred with The People (as I often do when upset), and doodled angrily while Bryan did his best to be accommodating and giving.
He did the dishes.
He vacuumed.
He burned incense.
He let me blast my music while I took on yet another portrait.
And still it has been a long day.

I guess I need to remember that, for those of us with mental illnesses, even doing nothing all day can invite stress. Even having the most wonderful boyfriend ever (like I do) can wig us out. At least in my delusions, I can predict how I'm going to react.