The kitchen's fairly clean without my maintenance for once--someone's taken out the garbage and the recycling.  

J vacuumed for the first time over the weekend.  

S randomly dropped off dinner for me tonight, home-cooked.

My parents have been oddly obliging since that unpleasant talk on Sunday, which left my palms scarred the next day from violent, prolonged clenching. 

E's coming to visit next Friday.  

Things have been sorted out with M.


This has been a pleasantly surprising week so far, so why do I still feel so unhappy?