ugh. i expect it will be clear this is just a vent post, right away. but a vent post is what i'm feeling a big need to make so here goes. i have been taking care of my dad. not living with him, except for a couple of months in the fall, and three months before that when he lived with me because his abuser had put him out of his house and he had nowhere to go when he got out of the hospital she'd put him in. but even after he went to the nursing home and things settled down a little, i have been taking care of my dad. i absolutely loved him and seeing him was a delight and i never did a single thing that was not whole-hearted and fully intentional. he was the thing that i wanted to do. but ugh. now he has died, and suddenly there's nothing for me to pay attention to but my own life. and let me tell you, it's lacking in charm. haven't opened my mail for six months. last time i recall vacuuming was oh, let's pretend it was sometime as recent as march. 'my' bedroom - the big real one - was the one i gave him when he came to live here, and when he finally did get to go back to his house i just kept on sleeping in the nasty little middle-wall room that i moved to when i took him in. it doens't help that my dad had pre-frontal dementia, aka 'cannot remember a thing' and while he was living with me he used to helpfully go downstairs every day and collect all my mail and then stack it . . . somewhere. for me to not find and not be able to focus on by the time i came home. i have been pouring all of my grown-upping into my dad. that always was obvious. it was also my choice. it was also necessary and the right path to take, if you ask me. i don't regret it, but now the problem is that the 'right path' is for me to sit down on the floor and deal with these tedious chores and i just don't wann.