State of Events
I'm so tired. That's become my mantra. My logo. My motto. My blah.
Chandler moved out a month ago. Since he took all his furniture, we decided not to get any more that we'd have to move, so the apartment has become more interesting, in a junkyard kind of way. We'll be moving out at the end of the month. After a stress-filled search, we decided to take the path of least resistance, and got an apartment in the complex that Traci and J.D. just moved in to. At least if we're miserable there, we'll have company. And we'll be miserable in Carrollwood. Not like that's a definite, but a plus. I'm anxious about the increased commute to work. I don't get enough sleep. Somehow, every night, we have something to do. One day, Chris got home at 3 in the afternoon, and I got home at 5, and we were cleaning the house until 9:30. Doing laundry, cleaning Chandler's room, vacuuming and scrubbing the carpet from where his furniture had been sitting for the last 16 months, trying to reorganize our stuff into some semblance of livability.
Then, there's the night once a week that Missy and Tedd come over. They won't show up until after 9:30, so that's a guaranteed night that I'm up till 1 am. Now, Chris is organizing a trip to Traci and J.D.'s once a week. Another night that I'm up till 1 am.
And there's the show. We got to bed at 3 last night, since Chris has to be at work by 10 on Saturdays. I'm up now because he left the alarm on, left the toilet running, and our complex's lawn people were just out in full effect. I'm hitting a point where sleep is all I think about, and I'm near tears when we have to go anywhere, or have people over. I'm sure stress has to be exaggerating that feeling.
We're VERY anxious about having our own place. Our finances haven't exactly recovered from the new job thing. We've both been at them for just over 3 months now. Mine has yet to make me a full employee, probably due to the fact that my mom lost my Social Security card, and I've been forgetting to replace it. I was going to do it yesterday, and they told me that if I'm moving in 3 weeks, I should wait and not have to fumble about the addresses and the mail. Our bills will all be going up, not having a third person to share them with, and Chris sunk a boatload on my birthday last month. So the word of the day is, "Don't spend any fucking money."
Luckily, Traci and J.D., being the awesome best friends they are, are saying they'll help us with the moving, and with getting us a bed; J.D. is now a bed delivery person. Chris's mom bought us pots and pans to replace Chandler's, so we could still cook. I'm going to be going through ALL of our shit, and consolidating by selling what we don't want - but I know me, and I'll probably be uncomfortable with the process, and procrastinate, and end up taking trunkloads to the Goodwill the day before we move out. I need to trim down my closet considerably, unless our ginormous bedroom has room for another dresser. Even so, I've fallen in love with the idea of getting the rest of my stuff from my mom's house. Every time I go there, I look through my closet and see the shit that's too cool to get rid of, but too weird to wear often enough to justify having here. Apparently though, when we moved out, I threw out bunches of cool shit anyway, in a frantic state of de-packratting.
Our show has our Retro theme night next week. I was thinking I'd wear my mint-green disco sleeve-winged dress - it's gone. Or that black-sequin, white-ruffle, 80's prom monstrosity - gone. Or - gone. My gold go-go boots? Gone. What? I'd quit Rocky casts at that point. Where was I ever going to wear that shit again? I never dreamed we'd have our own. So I either have to find something magical in my closet, or go to a thrift store (fun), with no one (not fun), and spend money (yuck), but wait, I haven't seen anything cool at a thrift store in ages (uh huh).
Chris has a new schedule. He now has Thursdays and Fridays off, and I still have Saturdays and Sundays. Dun Dun DUN!
I just posted that previous article. It was some bullshit I ended up reading on MSN. At first I was intrigued by the faux-wisdom it was spouting, and then I realized that it excused away none of the dipshits I know. So everybody does everything out of a sense of self-sabotage? What about the people who just want want that donut sooooooo fucking bad?? What about the people who simply decide you're not important enough in the scheme of things, for them to show up on time when meeting you? Some people are just self-centered. Some people only think of the poor choices they make when it actually bites them on the ass, and then forget about it (and you) five minutes later.
Eleven-eleven. Make a wish.
Chandler moved out a month ago. Since he took all his furniture, we decided not to get any more that we'd have to move, so the apartment has become more interesting, in a junkyard kind of way. We'll be moving out at the end of the month. After a stress-filled search, we decided to take the path of least resistance, and got an apartment in the complex that Traci and J.D. just moved in to. At least if we're miserable there, we'll have company. And we'll be miserable in Carrollwood. Not like that's a definite, but a plus. I'm anxious about the increased commute to work. I don't get enough sleep. Somehow, every night, we have something to do. One day, Chris got home at 3 in the afternoon, and I got home at 5, and we were cleaning the house until 9:30. Doing laundry, cleaning Chandler's room, vacuuming and scrubbing the carpet from where his furniture had been sitting for the last 16 months, trying to reorganize our stuff into some semblance of livability.
Then, there's the night once a week that Missy and Tedd come over. They won't show up until after 9:30, so that's a guaranteed night that I'm up till 1 am. Now, Chris is organizing a trip to Traci and J.D.'s once a week. Another night that I'm up till 1 am.
And there's the show. We got to bed at 3 last night, since Chris has to be at work by 10 on Saturdays. I'm up now because he left the alarm on, left the toilet running, and our complex's lawn people were just out in full effect. I'm hitting a point where sleep is all I think about, and I'm near tears when we have to go anywhere, or have people over. I'm sure stress has to be exaggerating that feeling.
We're VERY anxious about having our own place. Our finances haven't exactly recovered from the new job thing. We've both been at them for just over 3 months now. Mine has yet to make me a full employee, probably due to the fact that my mom lost my Social Security card, and I've been forgetting to replace it. I was going to do it yesterday, and they told me that if I'm moving in 3 weeks, I should wait and not have to fumble about the addresses and the mail. Our bills will all be going up, not having a third person to share them with, and Chris sunk a boatload on my birthday last month. So the word of the day is, "Don't spend any fucking money."
Luckily, Traci and J.D., being the awesome best friends they are, are saying they'll help us with the moving, and with getting us a bed; J.D. is now a bed delivery person. Chris's mom bought us pots and pans to replace Chandler's, so we could still cook. I'm going to be going through ALL of our shit, and consolidating by selling what we don't want - but I know me, and I'll probably be uncomfortable with the process, and procrastinate, and end up taking trunkloads to the Goodwill the day before we move out. I need to trim down my closet considerably, unless our ginormous bedroom has room for another dresser. Even so, I've fallen in love with the idea of getting the rest of my stuff from my mom's house. Every time I go there, I look through my closet and see the shit that's too cool to get rid of, but too weird to wear often enough to justify having here. Apparently though, when we moved out, I threw out bunches of cool shit anyway, in a frantic state of de-packratting.
Our show has our Retro theme night next week. I was thinking I'd wear my mint-green disco sleeve-winged dress - it's gone. Or that black-sequin, white-ruffle, 80's prom monstrosity - gone. Or - gone. My gold go-go boots? Gone. What? I'd quit Rocky casts at that point. Where was I ever going to wear that shit again? I never dreamed we'd have our own. So I either have to find something magical in my closet, or go to a thrift store (fun), with no one (not fun), and spend money (yuck), but wait, I haven't seen anything cool at a thrift store in ages (uh huh).
Chris has a new schedule. He now has Thursdays and Fridays off, and I still have Saturdays and Sundays. Dun Dun DUN!
I just posted that previous article. It was some bullshit I ended up reading on MSN. At first I was intrigued by the faux-wisdom it was spouting, and then I realized that it excused away none of the dipshits I know. So everybody does everything out of a sense of self-sabotage? What about the people who just want want that donut sooooooo fucking bad?? What about the people who simply decide you're not important enough in the scheme of things, for them to show up on time when meeting you? Some people are just self-centered. Some people only think of the poor choices they make when it actually bites them on the ass, and then forget about it (and you) five minutes later.
Eleven-eleven. Make a wish.