Mental health

A couple weeks ago I was in a world of drama.

The friend you want in your corner in such circumstances is Claudia -- she is indeed one of the finest uncomplaining listeners of our generation. That President's Day of my discontent, she and I met at the gym to unload on the ellipticals, then unloaded several hours at Starbucks, then went to CitySports to find me a yoga mat. Furiously talking all the while. Tuesday afternoon, still in the same frame of mind, I don't recall exactly but think she and I spent 90 minutes on the phone, talking some more. Or, mostly, me talking, she verbally nodding.

I'm lucky to have Claudia. She indulges me like that for a time, realizing its benefits. Then at point X, she just does not. She gives me the "pull up the bootstraps" directive.

I remember her saying that to me by Wednesday, essentially: "You need to figure out your own life, not other people's. And don't wait for someone else to figure out yours."

This weekend, I think, is going to be that. Do the laundry. And a couple 5-mile runs. Scrub the cherrywood floor, covered in cat hair, that hasn't been scrubbed in 3 months. Hit the antique store at the corner of E Street & Broadway and buy that dresser I've been looking at for 3 years. Go to Brookline and look at that Craigslist electronic keyboard I've been hedging on all week. Go to a concert on Saturday night that I feel like going to. Sleep. Bathe. Don't stress.

It's not figuring it all out. It's just sweeping a few things clean. I think I'm about up for that.