Kickin' depression in the crotch

A couple of weeks ago I was engulfed in the sticky, smelly mire that is unmedicated depression, and oh boy, was it fun! Sleeping late and still not wanting to get up, cramming a lot of fast food down my already over-stuffed gullet (that's probably not really a symptom of the depression so much as what I'd like to think is the cure), and my motivation-o-meter needle dipping way past zero. But I was eventually able to ride the depression wave to safety (without cutting or suicidal thoughts, even!) and the ambition-fest that was yesterday, September 8, 2009.

When I'm in one of my depression slumps, the smallest chore might as well be climbing Mount... well some really high mountain (it's late and I don't want to think of a high mountain--oo! Everest!). But last week I eventually mustered the courage and motivation to vacuum my living room. That got me rolling and set the stage for yesterday when I:

• Did all my laundry and changed my sheets
• Power cleaned my aquarium including an 80% water change, cleaning the filters, and scrubbing and razoring the algae off the sides
• Moving the cable box from my bedroom TV to the living room TV (If you'd ever seen how impossible it is to set up crap on my living room TV, you would be appropriately impressed right now and murmuring to each other in tones of awe and admiration)
• Rearranging the bird cages so Percy no longer has to sit next to the dark hallway

That doesn't sound like a whole lot, but it's a lot for me, dang it, so shut your noise hole. My days are composed of sitting in front of the TV either working or watching TV or both. Mine is a very exciting life full of very important things.

The bird cage switcheroo might cause a bit of a problem. I pushed Percy's ginormo cage over to where Chauncy and Olive were living, and pushed Chauncy and Olive next to Jiles's cage. I leave everybody's cage doors open so they can come and go as they please during the day, but Jiles has started making himself at home in the cockatiels' cage (much to their horror, I assure you). The already portly Jiles has started helping himself to their seed dish (much tastier than his extruded pellets) and drinking from their water. That might be forgivable if he hadn't started playing on their play gym and taking naps on their cage top. But other than Jiles's bad manners and wearing out his welcome, there hasn't been any biting or fighting, although if they were in a bird version of West Side Story, there were a couple of times that would have been the equivalent of slouching and snapping, pre-fight style. As for Percy, he just seems glad to be out in the light again and in a place where he can keep his beady little stink eye on me at all times. I'll be honest, though. If I can't get a human male to be a jealous boyfriend, at least I have a bird who, when he looks at me, makes me think of The Police's "Every Breath You Take" and fidget uncomfortably a little.

The fish couldn't give a toss.