You're always singing in my head

I read two books, watched three and a half movies (technically one and a half were rewatches), and made myself a couple of meals. I did not burn down the kitchen when the rice pudding caught on fire. I did not go outside in the intermittently freezing rain, either. I listened repeatedly to Loma's "Black Willow," a song I am finding almost apocalyptically haunting, and interspersed it with O'Hooley & Tidow's "Gentleman Jack." I petted cats. I expect I will need to spend tomorrow working and I resent it because I would rather be writing about movies, but as an experiment in aggressive self-care, I think this weekend was actually great. It was not uncomplicated. I would like to have slept more. I would like the inside of my head to feel safer and it feels much less safe whenever I am doing something that I enjoy. It was worth it. I guess I should tell the doctor.