Had two cups of black coffee at Starbucks, then came home and cranked up the dance music. That got me motivated. On my hands and knees, cleaning the tile floor in the living room. (Wish I had a picture of that.)
Taking a break from my chores. Found two of B.'s pills under the TV: a Diovan and a Crestor (for blood pressure and cholesterol, respectively). These are not the ones that made him happy, like Xanax (among others), which he went into rehab to get off of. When he tried to get off them cold turkey (after his best friend died of a drug overdose), he had seizures, which scared the hell out of me. I even called 911. B. was bleeding from his mouth from biting his tongue and had hit his head on the floor (and ended up with black eyes). He was on the floor seizing when I found him. A throw rug was also smouldering, since he'd dropped a cigarette on it. Fortunately I got up from a nap in time to discover this. The emergency squad took him to a hospital.