On Wednesday, I visited with my folks. Queen S had taken a tumble off a stepladder a couple days prior and was convalescing in the living room, her bruised and sore leg propped on an end table in front of her. We spent a few hours chatting and I stayed long enough to join the 'rents for Chinese takeout. I was happy to help take care of Mom, bringing her a dinner tray and fetching her water. And lovingly calling her Gimpy.
On Friday, I was back to work on some projects for King V. He's happy to throw some work my way when he can. As the mayor of Brokeassopolis, I'm happy to hold out my hands and wait for pieces of green paper to fall across my palms. Even though it was only two days ago, I can't remember what all happened on Friday. I do remember staying up until 6 a.m. on Saturday, in part because I was strung out on episodes of Animal Planet's Too Cute that were recently added to Netflix. Puppies and kittens?? Fuck sleep!
Four hours after going to bed, The Humpingtons woke me up by making a hellish amount of noise, but then I remembered they were MOVING OUT, so it was okay. (Sorta.) I lingered in bed a while, but eventually had to bail because Stompy McThunderfoot wouldn't stop letting the unnaturally heavy storm door slam every time he entered and exited the house. I also had to bail because my Internet was off. Knowing my bill was unpaid, I assumed the service had been disconnected. I wasn't too worried; I would pay it when I could. In the meantime, public WiFi was easy to find.
A few minutes later, I walked into my favorite cafe with a laptop bag, feeling just a smidge important, as though I was going to write a campaign speech while I sipped my latte instead of linger on Facebook. Because I was sacrificing my last little bit of grocery money on a breakfast out, I was frugal but still able to enjoy a bagel and coffee. Something about sitting with my computer in public while I sipped java from a purple feesh-sized mug made me feel... normal. Over the past couple of days, I've realized that feeling has been missing. Getting dressed, collecting my things, and going somewhere with a purpose reminded me of a life I haven't been living in months. I've gotten really good at isolating and only leaving long enough to visit with my folks or duck into the dollar store before scurrying home. When I do leave, to be in public long enough to do stuff like pick up my thyroid medicine, I often congratulate myself for Doing a Thing I Did Not Want to Do. (Huzzah! Back to the mousehole!)
The good, normal-again feeling -- let's call it sparklemagic, shall we? -- lasted throughout the day. In addition to checking out Facebook, I cleaned up my inbox (a daunting task now that Yahoo! is copying Gmail and using threads; also a task when one's father emails a LOT) and applied for three jobs. Two were writing positions (one freelance, one a tech writing job) and the other was with a marketing firm looking for a PR person. I hung out for almost three hours and finally left after my second bucket of coffee had grown cold. Rather than head home, fearing more Humpington noise and believing my Internet was out, I went to my folks' house again. I visited with Queen S, who was by now off the crutches she'd been hobbling around on. I worked for King V another couple hours and finally emerged from the basement, exhausted from a lack of sleep and more productivity than I was accustomed to. And then the sparklemagic balloon done got popped.
I don't know how the topic of money came up, but it did. Mom and I may have been discussing the sequester and the fact that my unemployment benefits were cut by 10 percent about a month ago. I distinctly remember Queen S saying, "So what do you do? Pay the rent and just hope you have enough money left for food?" And then I admitted that I was behind on my rent and soon to visit the township trustees' office to apply for assistance. Maybe I shared because I wanted to feel less ashamed. Or maybe I wanted to get cut off at the knees and listen to my mom rant about the availability of jobs in the 1960s, an argument I have now heard four or seven times, because that's what happened.
I didn't see it coming, but her tirade soon swept up my scheduled birthday celebrations like a tsunami taking out villages too close to the shore. She wanted to know how I was planning to pay for dinner on my birthday if I didn't have any money. Tired and shocked, I just kind of shrugged. I... have time to figure it out, I tried to reason. And then she went after my friends, wondering where they were with job leads and offers to celebrate my birthday with homemade cupcakes instead at some expensive-ass restaurant. I mumbled my way through explanations that friends had been sending me job leads and that I'd made my this-will-cost-actual-money birthday plans a few months ago when I wasn't behind on anything. I finally eased my way from the room, stopping in the potty to tinkle and staying long enough to textbomb a couple friends with WTF HALLLLP messages.
I was gone long enough to make Mom call out and ask where I was. I exited the bathroom and bid her farewell, completely out of things to say. I was polite but still got the hell out the door before she could start up again. I had been gone from my apartment for close to 12 hours and it was time to go home. Still believing my Internet was off, I watched a DVD and finally dragged myself to bed, knowing The Humpingtons would probably be up early to finish moving.
Wanting to get my sparklemagic back, I went to the cafe on Sunday to check email. I bageled and coffeed but the surroundings weren't the same. The beautiful day had attracted a bevy of people and I was relegated to a small table against the wall. My coffee mug was orange, which didn't properly set off the creamy color of my coffee. The cream cheese on my toasted bagel melted and I ended up dodging glops of goo while trying to get my breakfast on. Thankfully, I remained productive and finished the project Dad had given me. I left the cafe when several children trailed in the door, crowing about hot chocolate and unknowingly solving the story problem about a child-free woman in her late 30s and how long it would take to drive her straight out her damn mind.
Not wanting to face The Gimp of Wrath, I headed home. As soon as I arrived, I noticed the wireless signal on my phone lit up. I tentatively tested my Internet connection and soon found myself online. I clicked various websites, expecting the cable company to pop up and yell "PSYCH!" Turns out the service being off was a regional fluke and not just me. I'm glad I hadn't realized the glitch sooner; I got out of the house, ran errands, and was otherwise productive when I ordinarily wouldn't have been. It was certainly nice to see humans other than the few folks who deliver overpriced takeout to my house.
Saturday's efforts paid off. By Monday morning, I'd heard back from everyone I queried about jobs, including an invitation from the marketing firm to interview on Wednesday morning. I'm trying not to get all floopy because I've danced around with my basket of hopes before and been seriously disappointed when The Job I've Dreamed Of fails to materialize. That said, I feel like things are taking a turn for the better. No more sex and vacuuming from The Humpingtons. Ever. Both AT&T and the cable company were cool with waiting a few more days for their money. I've been chatting with King V about stepping up and taking the Verbose & Co. reins after he retires. (He's at the helm until late 2014, so this story will continue to develop.) My landlord was cool about the rent being overdue. Now I just have to get Visa on board with being a little patient and survive a mandatory trip to the unemployment office later today. At least there are giant mugs of coffee to get lost in when the world gets to be too much.
1 comment:
coffee..sigh*..just don't do it for me..now tea? that's a different story.
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