Okay, my room has reached epic levels of messiness. I have a hazmat suit, Folie Á Deux, and a taser. I'm going in. PRAY FOR ME.

BOOKS. o____o

It is to the stage now where if a book is even partway to kind of within a few shades of the beige-ish colour palette of the guest room, and I am not breaking up a set by doing so, I sneak it down to the shelves there and hope my mum doesn't notice and/or throw a spazzfest when she does.

I need to STOP BUYING BOOKS; the entire right attic is still filled with boxes of them, and I have a stack at least as tall as I am that I have yet to even crack open.

Anyway! Measurable progress has been made on my room, so BRB CHRISTMAS TREE.

Oh, god, this is totally psychosomatic, but I don't even care. This morning, I took a multivitamin supplement and a ginseng capsule... thing along with my antidepressant - and now my floor is visible again, and my wardrobe is (a bit more) organised, and the Christmas tree is decorated, and I wrote an RP tag I was actually happy with, and I found that holy shit, years ago when I rescued a few interesting-looking books from parental/inherited boxloads going into the attic, I apparently managed to recover and stash away until JUST TODAY the PRECISE BOOK ON MASADA I NEED HARDCORE THAT I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO WREST FROM THE LIBRARY'S CLAWS *______* what the fuck I seriously own it, and I am warm and fuzzy from post-decorating celebratory mulled wine, and I feel like a million dollars.

OM NOM PLACEBO EFFECT.

Whatever, or whoever: thank you.

And now, I am going to nap.