1/16/2005
And It Just Got Worse . . .
I swear, I hadn't intended to write another segment of what I jokingly refer to as my life, but . . .
Well, you decide if I really needed to.
We're evicted. Went through that whole schpiel last time.
Needless to say, I'm stressing like a fecking lunatic. I've packed a third of the studio (so many toys, so few boxes), a bunch of unnecessary decorations, most of my bookshelf (approximately a small library) and a load of extra dishes and cups. I'm gonna have to sell my comic book collection (hint hint) to get money for deposits and such, so that's another project I have to start. Still have to keep up on regular cleaning, and add on patching holes from shelves and pictures and such. And I start yet another job next week (a grand total of 6 now; I'll tell you about those in a bit); teaching a cartooning course, which means tons of preparation.
I'm searching for a new place to live somewhere in the neighborhood because I don't want to find a new job, and because the Things feel like this is their area; we have our church, our store, our park, our walk, and I won't give that up. And the brunt of packing has automatically fallen upon my shoulders. Which makes the fifth time in the 9 years we've been together this same scenario is playing out.
Of course, the Bitter Half sees nothing wrong with this. "It's not like we're moving to another state."
Well, no feck. But then, she's only working one job. I've got cartooning, writing, public relations for a website and related comic conventions, teaching, stock at the store, and I just accepted a position as managing editor for the website's columns. Balance that with my regular household duties plus managing the move . . .
This is officially the year of the burn-out.
Oh, but wait. It just got better.
The Bitter Half just bought a new car. No, let me correct that. A new SUV. After driving our other car into the ground in less than a year, she decided she couldn't live another second without her "dream" vehicle. So, I'm supposed believe that, without a dime for a downpayment and inside a week and enough debt to make a credit card cry, she got an SUV with no questions.
I repeat, we have no money for a move. We have no prospects. Basically, we have no hope. But she's got her "dream" car.
And we just had a major row about where we're gonna live. She's "considering" moving into a trailer park. Okay, I don't mean to offend anyone, but the parks around here consist of two types of people: retirees or white trash. And how the feck does she expect us to got from a 3 bedroom lower -- with basement and attic and studio area -- to a trailer? And that's not even considering her comment about my job. "There's a gas station and another store from your chain nearby." Sure, I'll just go from one shitty job to another; easy transfer, who fecking cares, right? It's not like I'm important or anything. Sorry, but I want a garden in my front yard, not a pick-up on cinder blocks.
Not to mention that, in the school district we live in, we get free busing for Thing 1 (and soon Thing 2) and free speech therapy for Thing 2. Let's not bring that into the equation, because she obviously cares what that might mean to them, right?
But she's got her SUV.
And we don't want her to suffer.
Doc "Save Your Boxes" Absurd
0 comments
Well, you decide if I really needed to.
We're evicted. Went through that whole schpiel last time.
Needless to say, I'm stressing like a fecking lunatic. I've packed a third of the studio (so many toys, so few boxes), a bunch of unnecessary decorations, most of my bookshelf (approximately a small library) and a load of extra dishes and cups. I'm gonna have to sell my comic book collection (hint hint) to get money for deposits and such, so that's another project I have to start. Still have to keep up on regular cleaning, and add on patching holes from shelves and pictures and such. And I start yet another job next week (a grand total of 6 now; I'll tell you about those in a bit); teaching a cartooning course, which means tons of preparation.
I'm searching for a new place to live somewhere in the neighborhood because I don't want to find a new job, and because the Things feel like this is their area; we have our church, our store, our park, our walk, and I won't give that up. And the brunt of packing has automatically fallen upon my shoulders. Which makes the fifth time in the 9 years we've been together this same scenario is playing out.
Of course, the Bitter Half sees nothing wrong with this. "It's not like we're moving to another state."
Well, no feck. But then, she's only working one job. I've got cartooning, writing, public relations for a website and related comic conventions, teaching, stock at the store, and I just accepted a position as managing editor for the website's columns. Balance that with my regular household duties plus managing the move . . .
This is officially the year of the burn-out.
Oh, but wait. It just got better.
The Bitter Half just bought a new car. No, let me correct that. A new SUV. After driving our other car into the ground in less than a year, she decided she couldn't live another second without her "dream" vehicle. So, I'm supposed believe that, without a dime for a downpayment and inside a week and enough debt to make a credit card cry, she got an SUV with no questions.
I repeat, we have no money for a move. We have no prospects. Basically, we have no hope. But she's got her "dream" car.
And we just had a major row about where we're gonna live. She's "considering" moving into a trailer park. Okay, I don't mean to offend anyone, but the parks around here consist of two types of people: retirees or white trash. And how the feck does she expect us to got from a 3 bedroom lower -- with basement and attic and studio area -- to a trailer? And that's not even considering her comment about my job. "There's a gas station and another store from your chain nearby." Sure, I'll just go from one shitty job to another; easy transfer, who fecking cares, right? It's not like I'm important or anything. Sorry, but I want a garden in my front yard, not a pick-up on cinder blocks.
Not to mention that, in the school district we live in, we get free busing for Thing 1 (and soon Thing 2) and free speech therapy for Thing 2. Let's not bring that into the equation, because she obviously cares what that might mean to them, right?
But she's got her SUV.
And we don't want her to suffer.
Doc "Save Your Boxes" Absurd
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