Taking care of oneself

Lately, I've been noticing here and there how I'm not taking care of myself. My toilet has flushed slowly for it's-got-to-be three years now, my bathroom sink faucet just started leaking and that's been at least two weeks, I clean the house irregularly, and so on. The dawning realization has been painful. Awareness is good, but not always pleasant.

It has been suggested to me that my recent ex was a good distraction from all this (and implied that a new love interest would be the same sort of distraction), as I have to choose to take care of myself and not have someone else do it ("taking care" versus "caring for"). So, slowly, I am moving out of that mucky place into a much better one. And noticing. Noticing how crammed my bookshelves are and how pleasant it is to go through them quickly and weed out books I don't need in my house for whatever reason. Noticing how quick it is to load and run the dishwasher, and how satisfied I feel when I set it running. Noticing how happy I am when I sort the laundry and it isn't 6 or 8 loads.

It's like waking up from a bad dream. I'd like to stay awake.