Law is kept as a pet named Corazon, and lives under the care of his master, Doflamingo. When Law doesn’t receive enough attention due to Doflamingo’s long working hours, his behaviour becomes unmanageable. As a solution, Kid is offered the job of being Law’s personal entertainer; but first he must pass the test to determine if he is up to the challenge.
i know im not american but y’all do realize if you vote for trump you’re giving a racist, misogynistic, dim witted, crusty duck faced 70 year old a chance to run the country? to have a say? to obtain the nuclear launch codes????
I was emailing back and forth with my ex today (who does a lot of mental health support stuff for me) and trying to explain to him how I can be so smart and capable and good at my job and yet struggle so much with day to day life. So I told him this story:
Until half an hour ago, there was a shoe in my shower. Don’t even ask how it got there; that’s a long story on its own. Just picture the shoe in the shower.
I see the shoe every time I go into the washroom. Instead of picking it up and putting it back where it belongs, though, I put "clean bathroom" on my to-do list. Three weeks pass, and the shoe is still in the shower. Some days I
just step around it while I get washed and some days I get so panicked at the thought that
the shoe is still there and that I haven’t cleaned the bathroom yet that
I just get washed in the sink instead. I get so overwhelmed that I shut
down because the task “clean bathroom” is so vague I don’t even
understand how to go about it. Cleaning the bathroom means removing the
shoe but also cleaning the tub and the sink and the mop bucket from the
corner and the mirror and the toilet and sorting my makeup and the
medicine cabinet and oh yeah I forgot I’m supposed to be taking Vitamin D
and I thought it was in there and it wasn’t so I have to go find where I
put it but the whole house is such a disaster that I have to go fire up
my laptop and make sure to put “find Vitamin D” on my to-do list which
will spiral into at least another two week ordeal..
…and in the meantime, there’s still a fucking shoe in my shower.
to anybody who walks in and sees that, it just looks like I’m lazy or
don’t care. And it’s so frustrating because I care so much, I’m so
embarrassed about the mess and I hate living like that but everything is
don’t really fully understand why I can’t just pick up the fucking shoe. I
don’t understand at all. I do know though that every time I go into the
washroom I feel anxiety that the shoe is still there. I’ve tried
breaking my to-do lists into smaller tasks, but then “clean the
bathroom” becomes a list of 50 tasks and I’m the floor crying because 50
feels like Too Many Tasks. My to-do list has been overcome by Zeno’s Arrow Paradox.
What’s really interesting to me is that at the moment, I am in the longest stretch of my life I’ve ever had without a major depressive episode or any notable general anxiety. I’m doing really well with keeping on top of stuff that usually flummoxes me, like making phone calls and appointments (although those leave me with negative a gazillion spoons for socializing, which does get lonesome). But the shoe in my shower was just straight up Autism-brain, not letting me put the shoe away.
Funnily enough, using the shoe example made me sit down and really think about the WHY of the shoe still being in the shower, and then suddenly it clicked:
Moving the shoe, separate from cleaning the bathroom, was not a one-off either.
Before I took the shoe out of the shower I needed to clean out my shoe bin. Then I was going to put the shoes into a different, sealable bin, but I can really only do that on a weekend when there’s
sufficient light in my living room, and even before I do that I have to
empty a bin in my room to use, but to do that I need to make room in my
closet for the clothing that’s already in the bin, but to do that I need
to put together a bag of clothing to donate, and when I think about all
those steps I go back to wanting to cry.
But then I thought… okay, it’s not like the shoe is bothering me there
because it’s in the wrong place; the shoe is bothering me because it is
keeping me from basic hygiene because I can’t even shower. The shoe
doesn’t need to go to it’s final resting place right now, it literally
just needs to be NOT IN THE SHOWER.
So I put the shoe in the mop bucket under the sink, which led to a significant enough decrease in stress that I was able to cross three other things off the interminable to-do list
And I emailed all of this to my ex and then I texted him to tell him I’d sent him an email and then I panicked that I sounded ridiculous and that I hadn’t explained myself well at all.
And then, just now, my phone beeped, and it was a text from my ex reading: