I woke up at about 7:20 this morning because for whatever reason, my body is incapable of sleeping in. Even though I'm physically exhausted, the fact that I wake up at six during the week makes the weekend attempt for extra snooze time an absolute bust. I guess it's okay because I have to get ready for work eventually anyway, but I still had an hour.
What? What's that you say? Work? Why, yes. Thank you for asking. I'm currently on day 20 of my working streak, which will finally run it's course next Thursday. I actually haven't minded it-- I've only gotten sick once.
Laying in my bed wide awake poses a series of problems for me in the early morning, because I tend to think about all of life's intricacies and issues: something NOT fit for a human to rumble on before the sun rises. Everything is still a fog, and every answer you come up with will inevitably seem grand at the time, but when your system actually wakes up and you realize how stupid you were just a mere two hours prior, you've learned your lesson. Never, ever, EVER make important decisions or think vital thoughts when under the influence of sleep-induced drunkenness. Nevertheless, I do it every day.
And there goes my alarm, screeching at me over the whir of the overhead fan and the cars outside my window. These sounds, reminders: DON'T THINK ABOUT ANYTHING YET.
That would be a lot easier to do if I wasn't in such a fucking bind right now. It's the same old story of everyone anywhere who has ever packed up his/her life and moved it somewhere else in hopes of starting new and finding something he/she thought was missing. Where is all the goddamn money?
All of my things (that I would need for an apartment/to sleep/to live on my own) are back home in a storage unit. One that I only have another day on before the month expires. I probably should call the dude in charge before my things end up in some hillbilly auction, or better yet, Storage Wars. At least that way I'd have some credibility to my name. Any way you look at it: renting a UHaul truck here, picking up my things, and returning it here, getting a UPod/storage crate, renting a pickup truck here and driving it to and from, getting a UHaul there and then towing my car while returning it here--all of these options are going to cost me upwards of 750. 750 that I DON'T HAVE. Because I'm moving in next weekend, I need to also figure in my security deposit (my new landlord is already giving me lenience on the first month of rent) and gas money for any aforementioned option. I'm finding myself really stressing out and getting upset for the first time since being here, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.
To top it off, my fat cat Tommy (a tiger kitty who thinks he is a dog, literally) peed on my blanket for no reason other than he probably was too lazy to walk the four fucking feet to the litter box. Pardon my French here if you can't handle a rager, but seriously? Get up and go to your toilet you lazy fool. Did I mention he peed all over my friend's couch, which is another 150 that I have to shell out to the dry cleaners that I don't have?
For the first time, I'm wondering whether or not this was the right move at the right time for me. I know in my heart of hearts that my spirit is healthier and that I FEEL happy for the first time in a while here, or out of Batavia, and I also know that this WAS the right move. But damn it all, if this monetary situation isn't a test of my newfound clarity and contentedness. I'm always in a rut, always going to be in debt, and always going to be struggling to get by as far as finances are concerned.
It's times like these where I pick up a spoon that isn't mine, reach from the futon that isn't mine over to the bookshelf that isn't mine, forget about all of the Benjamins floating around out in the world that aren't mine but probably should be mine, and quit worrying about what isn't mine. The Nutella-- sweet, sweet Nutella-- that is now in my hands, bought with a few bucks that once was mine, is all mine for the next 15 minutes. Life is good.
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