Hey, it’s been awhile since I’ve really cleaned up here, and I’m sorry. Man, look at this place - all this clutter. Useless junk. These anxieties have to be, damn, six years old now? How the hell did you convince me to keep them? I knew they were pointless; I should’ve brought a trash bag. Maybe a shovel.
You know, you kinda make it hard to see what’s in here sometimes. Why must you sit right in the middle, blocking everything I need. Why can’t you move to the corner where you’re not in the way. I have to climb over you any time I need to get something done. Why do you make everything so difficult?
Just, forget it. I’ll come back tomorrow; I’m too tired to fight right now.
P.S. I’m bringing a flashlight.