Caterwauling

Well, I’ve been between jobs for three days now, and I’ve already put on five pounds. Damn it! (I’m doing a few “last meals” around town; am going to regret it when my too-loose “skinny jeans” start getting tighter!)

I was thinking this morning, a girl has to quit her job to get a day off around these parts. So, today is my first “day off” of about 10 of them.

The bad news is that the paycheck I got on the 13th is the end of them.

The good news is that my new company is sending me a lil something to help with the moving truck.

The great news is that my four weeks of unused vacation (you know, that stuff I stopped accruing back in SEPTEMBER) are getting paid out on the 31st.

w00t!

I don’t have a lot to say today. I’ve been dumping my angst on Twitter. I’ve been ready to go volunteer at the old job just to get away from the roomie.

I know, I’m the one who invited her to come along. Constant baby talk to the cats and all, no matter how much I scream about it.

Yesterday, she asked if she could use some of my boxes. Sigh. And she asked me to teach her how to pack boxes. Loud sigh. And would I just pack some of them for her? Oh and BY the WAY, can I do her taxes, too?

Oh wait, there’s more.

I had a hair dryer a year and a half ago that started catching fire. So he was replaced. Yesterday she bothers me to say, “Um, that hair dryer that catches fire? Can I throw it away?”

*blink*

Uh, why was she KEEPING IT? In case it STOPPED igniting?

What else? Oh yeah, she is stressed out and decided she needed to bake. That’s her stress reliever. Which explains why I turned out to be such a FAT FUCK for most of my life. She stress-bakes; I stress-eat. Lose-lose. Gah.

So naturally there were cookies a-baking all night. And I was good and didn’t bother going near the kitchen. But of course I got a steaming plate of cookies. And since I was packing and stressed-out, yep, guess who stress-ate steaming-hot cookies?

Gah. Dah. M. It.

I had to go lock myself in my bedroom with a heating pad to get away from it. But I gotta admit, the smell in the house sure beat Maddie’s usual steaming-shit souffle concoctions. Which, now that there are boxes everywhere and furniture moved out of place, she’s had to get creative at dropping steaming turds.

What really sucks is that every time I go to move something, I find poop nuggets nestled into the carpet underneath whatever I’m moving. Terrific. Next apartment, I’m just putting down hay since the place will get treated like a goddamned corral, despite my best efforts to the contrary.

I was getting to a point where I could tolerate everything (i.e., roomie, cats) when I thought I was leaving them behind. Well, I figured if I could part with one of the three, I could maybe get rid of a second one (i.e., mom plus one cat). And now that the light at the end of this miserable roommate relationship is, in fact, an oncoming train, I feel so trapped.

I mean, I’d feel bad if something bad happened. Since that’s how I’ve been taught — you don’t get to feel upset about something or someone (however entitled you are. And I AM) because something bad could happen. And if it does, it’s on your conscience forever.

When we had my goodbye night at Weight Watchers, a new gal had said she just came back from Seattle, where she and her husband had taken their 1-year-old son for his birthday (to visit their family).

She complained of having to be stuffed into an airplane seat. Of really needing a seatbelt extender but being too proud. Of having to pay for the baby to have a seat since she can’t fit him on her lap. Of not being able to put down her tray table.

I had interjected that I had all those problems. On top of that, I fly alone a lot and end up in the middle seat, where I had to suck in my thighs to not bleed into other people’s space. I also had talked about how I couldn’t open a damn laptop, let alone use it. And now I can. And so will she.

But she said something else that struck a chord with me. She said that after visiting Seattle for a week, she sees EXACTLY where all of her bad habits began. Family stress. Turning on the TV and eating in front of it. Shoveling in food to ease the pain. Every event revolving around food. And more stress that causes you to raid the refrigerator.

Oh, God, if that isn’t the truth for most, if not all, of us! I swear, I put on 20 pounds in the first few months that I went from being roommate-free to suicidal. But to her point, we have the stress-baker and the stress-eater; the latter of whom BEGS to not have junk food in the house because she KNOWS she had no willpower. And since it’s HER house, why can’t one goddamned rule be honored. (Since, clearly, the cat-baby-talk doesn’t go away upon multiple requests?)

I know, I make the roomie out to be the Wicked Witch of the East Coast. She’s really not. But when she noted that I haven’t ever taken a day off, not even a sick day, I noted that well, I didn’t take many in my career, but that shit definitely stopped after she moved in. Being at home or being in meetings with a fever and a runny nose? Hmm. Equally torturous. But work has the occasional good-looking man to make everything better. 🙂

Today, again, she asked me to help her find a place here. With WHAT time and WHAT money? Five days till the moving truck comes. Tick TOCK.

If any of you are the praying type, please pray that she finds a job quickly in Florida, and that I can evict her before Christmas, as part of my arrangement. And maybe, just maybe, I can get that truly fresh start that everyone wanted me to have. …

I was looking so forward to writing a post about how sad and yet happy my last few days of work were, but then Mommy just started blubbering in my doorway about how she can’t handle this move and she doesn’t know where to start and blah blah blah blah blah. And now I’m just annoyed because it’s this precise “give up before you even try” attitude that’s made her completely dependent on me.

I extended the invitation to come to Florida solely on the basis of it being cheaper to keep her. Sure, I was planning to send her money to live on, but I can’t afford to do it now. I can’t help her get a place (and get her shit TO it) and put down security deposits and whatnot because that’s what I’m busy doing for me. Fuq, I just slapped a check with a comma in the mail yesterday as a security deposit to my new place; don’t even talk to me about what this adventure is ultimately costing me. And she’s whining about packing some boxes? Not interested. Seriously.

Anyway.

Gemini weekly horoscope, courtesy Astrocenter.com:

The Sun moves into Aries on Friday, which brings a burst of fresh energy to your social life. It’s time for new buds and shoots to spring up in this area. With Venus in Aries, too, this is a promising time for dating and for all new relationships. Even old friendships get off to a new start. Jupiter continues to move through your adventure zone, encouraging you to look to the future and invest some time and energy in trying your hand at other things. If you ever wanted to get a book published, go for it now.

I’m so ready to move on to the next phase of my life, it isn’t even funny.

In better news, I just treated myself to one of those newfangled tiny, shiny black iPod shuffles that came out this week. It’s my “congratulations, self, for surviving four years at the old job,” although a friend wants to do an iPod exchange and if I do give up my sexy little iPod temporarily, I’d better get it back!

This little iPod represents something huge for me. I left my last job and nearly died after five months of unemployment, save for selling the occasional vibrator out of a suitcase and accepting far less than I was worth to do freelance writing and editing.

I started my job on the 17th of the month with $30 in my pocket and an eviction notice. This one, I will start with a little tiny bit still left in my savings and with the love and support of dozens of people who are cheering me on both from the gig I’m leaving and the new one I’m starting.

In other words, I am going out on top — the way it should be, and should always have been.

A part of me wishes that it didn’t have to be this way — that I could have had the job and the friends and the money and one (or more) of the boys I’m leaving behind and the beach, all wrapped up into one. But for the first time in my life, I’m giving this all up to fate. Sure, I will work hard to maintain the relationships. But really, if we’re all meant to be in the same room again, we will be. There’s too much love to lose to let it happen any other way.

And there’s a whole lot more to be found that I never would have experienced had I stayed put. I’d never be able to see, appreciate or even accept it without having been surrounded by those who’ve pounded it into my head how much I deserve it all along.

I plan to make everyone proud. Self included!

Yesterday, just before the BEST PARTY EVER because it was in my honor and it was attended by the most FABULOUS PEOPLE ON THE PLANET, my darling V. had sent me this note about the universe and stars and planets and such. (I love these things.) …

“Be prepared for startling news, surprises and shock waves as the Sun makes its annual union with Uranus in Pisces (6:28PM PDT). Uranus can also represent the joker, wild card or something unusual coming out of left field. It is advisable to expect the unexpected for several hours before and after the Sun conjunction with this planet of revolutionary events and radical changes.”

I wouldn’t say I had any real shocks. OK, well maybe a few. But everything was good and fabulous, so I’m thrilled that Uranus and Pisces weren’t conspiring against me and were actually helping a sister out. 🙂

Surprisingly for me, I didn’t take photos last night. Honestly, I figured I’d just be bawling the whole evening as everyone told their favorite stories about me and supplied me with liberal amounts of my favorite pinot noir. But I did OK for me and that’s all I could ask. I’ll never forget all the love in that room; it’s nice to transition from sad tears to happy tears!

I’m having the world’s best IM conversation with someone over the “hedge” between our cubes. Usually we work a thousand miles apart and it’s so nice to hear my friend’s laughter again. All I gotta say is “laundry” and “so that’s what they’re calling you now.” 🙂

And that, in and of itself, just goes to show that while I’m leaving my friends 1,000 miles behind geographically, our friendships are rock-solid and will last through the next dozen hurricane seasons. I’m such a better person for knowing each and every one of them.

I’m a lucky, lucky girl. And luckier still that I know it!

It’s my next-to-last day at the ranch. *sniffle* I wake up with a panic attack every morning, although not as intense now that I know I have a place to live. But still, I’ll probably be a little bit nuts until I start my next job. I don’t deal well with unemployment, even when I see the prize — gotta have it in my hand. Yes, I really do need to work on my faith, funny you should ask! 🙂

Speaking of housing, my beloved friend whom I’ll call “Vitamin D” because she looks after my emotional health, made me feel way better about losing out on the condo I wanted. The truth is, that was my utopia, to be high atop the world with a stunning view of the water. But it was also in a VERY posh part of town that doesn’t exactly cater to my age group. She was worried that I’d be so enthralled with staying at home or walking solo along the Intracoastal that I wouldn’t actually get out and meet people. At least now, I have something to work toward as opposed to getting everything I want, right now.

And my apartment that I did take ain’t all that, either. So I figure, I’ll live there for a year and really, truly get to know the area and move where I want, when I’m ready. And if all else fails, Mel promises that there’s always a place for me in California!

In news about other travelers wandering this world, my beloved right-hand is in town and she took me and another of our beloveds out for dinner and drinks last night. We had a blast and a lot of overdue girl talk. We mused how sad it is that it takes one of us leaving town to be able to get together. But whatever the conditions are that force it, we’re glad for the time we have together.

Tonight is my official goodbye party. I hand-picked a very small, fabulous group and I can’t wait to spend a few hours with the people I love the most. Let’s just say it now, I expect I will be sobbing. Even some of my famous friends are taking time out of their busy schedules to hang with me. Which, how lucky can a girl be?

There were other people I could and possibly should have invited, but this is the group I can be 100% myself in front of, so they will deal with all my whining and crying and still love me anyway. 🙂

I’m having a slight wardrobe malfunction today, which is a peril of wearing new clothes. Genius here thought it would be a great idea to wear red skivvies with “Please Me” tramp-stamped in black on the back … under khaki pants. (I bought the gutchies after I saw “Zumanity” in Vegas.)

But it doesn’t seem to be noticeable … at least, not if anyone can tear their eyes away from the inordinate amount of cleavage showing through my new blouse!

Note to self, just because you fit back into “normal” sizes again, doesn’t mean you SHOULD buy everything that fits. Love, the Half-Sized Goddess.

I’d love to say it’s all smooth sailing from here (despite the fact that I need to start packing and deal with the bajillion other details that come with moving out-of-state), but the roomie is back on her kick that she’s going to stay here. Which, fine. Really. I invited her because I figured I may not love having Mommy living with me, but I can at least keep an eye on her; who the hell knows what kind of trouble she’ll get into on her own and I can’t perform a rescue operation from 1,000 miles away.

But now she’s upset that she’s about to get health insurance at her job, and I’m taking it all away in my quest for a better life. Sigh. Believe me, I know how she feels. But am I supposed to reverse the whole works for this? I figured her health would improve while living a mile from the coast, but what the hell does my selfish ass know?!?!

I’m at my capacity for worry. Right now, it’s time to celebrate what I keep forgetting is a very exciting time in my young-ish life. Good thing I have amazing colleagues and friends who are the first to remind me that the time for working hard is winding down, and the time for playing hard and clearing up my head between gigs is the most-important thing I can do.

I just wish I could take them all with me. But you can never really leave your family. (Case in point, mine lives with me no matter how far away I move to get away!) And while I hope my new family loves/appreciates me as much as this one does, and vice versa, I will always know what it was like to shine and I’ll be grateful to those who prepared me for everything I’m going to do next.

It’s 9 p.m. on the Tuesday before the Friday that is the last day at my beloved job, and I am working.

I left for a while — went to my last Tuesday Weight Watcher’s meeting that I love. It’s funny, I do have a lot of things in my life that I love. Makes you wonder why I’m running away from this life.

Oh yeah. See: “Working at 9 p.m. so she could make it to a 6:30 p.m. meeting!”

I had such a great time at my meeting. I love my weight-loss buddies. I love my meeting leader. I am somebody there, you know? Just like at work, I’ve achieved a lot of things and people know, respect and applaud me.

Again, it’s hard to leave all the good stuff and, more importantly, the good people behind. But the overarching theme of the day is that I have a lot bigger things that I’m going to do with my life and myself.

My friend Sandy made sure that Chris paused the meeting toward the end, and she announced that it was my last day with them. Chris gave a lovely, lovely speech about me. He probably sees a thousand of us in a week, but he knows my name, my stats and my stories. I’ve bragged about him so much at the Wednesday meetings that I’ve noticed half of the Wednesday group now attends on Tuesdays. 😉

I got the contact info of some of my friends, and I’m sure I will see them again — thousand miles of distance be damned. I promised my friend Becky that I will come back when I hit my weight-loss goal.

And that is a goal in and of itself — to be able to come back to D.C., on a random Tuesday night, to see my old friends and show them the new me. And I can’t WAIT to see how far they’ve come in their journey, too. We’ve had a lot of successes together. I am their biggest fans and can’t wait to see them again. Or, to see less of them, as we love to say.

It was a huge day in general. Had my exit interview. Got an offer to stay at my job.

Oh, and yeah, I GOT AN APARTMENT!

OMG, I was a walking panic attack today. Everyone knows how bad my credit is. I don’t care — I needed therapy. And everyone was so kind and positive and reassuring and sympathetic.

I had called my Plan B apartment complex this morning, only to be blown off by another snotty worker who said my paperwork is in progress and it will take up to eight days to get an answer. Which, I thought this was a sure thing (with extra deposits).

So I had Plan C in motion. There’s an apartment complex by work that I really love, and they have a location by my new workplace in Florida. So it turns out, their complex is cheap down there. Good location, decent size, great views, etc. I called them up and basically was reassured that I’d be fine if I applied there.

But …

Yeah, the “but” was that I had to pay $99 to apply (big deal — that’s standard) PLUS $500 (non-refundable) as a “service fee.” If I got turned down, I’d get the $500 back. But if I chose not to live there after approval, I’d be screwed.

And the place I’m going to, well, I don’t have a view. It’s a pretty complex if you can see the lake and other scenery. But I didn’t get one of those units. And fuck it, really — it’s a mile to the beach. Who the hell cares about their stupid little stream? 🙂

The point is, I have a home! OMG, I’m ready to do my Snoopy dance on the doghouse. Sure, the place is expensive by Florida standards (it’s still the same price as I’m paying in D.C., plus it’s an extra 200 square feet that I don’t have here). And it has two bathrooms. Which, the roomie says she’s coming, then she doesn’t, then she does. Whatever. I don’t have time/energy to think anymore. I have to PACK!

My dance card is also full for the next couple of weeks. So, I will probably be scarce. Plus, I have to give up my laptop on Friday, so adios to the Internet. Good, maybe I’ll focus on packing for a change!

Oh, yay, I can finally give the movers a destination address. Squee!

All right, back to my final Tuesday night newsletter. Which, I will miss the author, but not the process. Not one bit. …

Got turned down for the dream condo. A combination of the owner not being receptive to my glorious credit plus the fact that he says he may have a buyer. So yeah, let’s go with the route that I should be glad that he doesn’t take me and then turn around and sell the place in three months. Fine. Whatever.

Just tired of feeling like the scum of the earth when I could earn a third as much but, with perfect credit, be welcomed with open arms anywhere I apply.

Everyone keeps telling me to be positive, and good things will come. But I was positive all day, you know? Well, at least until the call came at 4:28 p.m.

Like all the relationships that failed to launch, I figure it fell through for a reason. But I’m tired of comforting myself with the “I guess it wasn’t meant to be” line. I mean, I’m OK with the heartbreak if I can just have the euphoria, too. When is it my turn to want to dance around because I’m just bursting with fruit flavor? Why does the bottom always have to fall out from under Every. Single. Dream?

Like my realtor said, my job is just to get down there right now. Once I’m there, even in a place I don’t love, I can escape the pressure of needing to find a place immediately. I can focus on working hard, saving money, and un-screwing up my credit. And THEN I can get my dream place.

She said she’ll get me a place on the water then. Hell, it’ll be on the water and 10 times nicer than the condo with which I fell in love. I’ll get my lifestyle, my inspiration, my beauty, my dream. I’ll get it all when it’s time to have it.

In the meantime, I’ll keep listening to all those chipper people who assure me (and reassure me) that said glorious time in my life will, in fact, come.

And universe, if you’re listening? Since I can’t have my dream apartment, can you send me that great love that I’ve all but given up on in the pursuit of everything else?

What a view

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

This is the view from the condo I’ll probably never qualify for. Sure, the deck isn’t all that. And for what it’s worth, the interior ain’t palatial, either.

But man, to be able to sit in my living room and look out at this? Is worth any pain I may have to go through, to get there.

Even if it’s not meant for me now, it’s definitely worth having seen it, to know what to aspire to. …

I don’t know what it is about D.C. that makes me cry these days. I tell ya. Maybe it’s the fact that my hotel in Florida sucked and I didn’t get an iota of sleep for the past two days. But when I touched down here at home, man I wept with joy.

I’m beginning to wonder whether my tears of grieving for all I’m leaving behind are simply just a physical reaction to going because maybe I shouldn’t.

Oh well. Too late to turn back now.

I’m still homeless, as it were. I won’t hear about the two potential living situations till tomorrow. Both are equally, heinously expensive. And I don’t know how else to do it but on faith. That’s how I’m doing pretty much everything these days.

My plane landed with just enough time for me to head to church. Because let’s face it, I need all the help I can get right now. God, I hope you’re looking after me and you’re as crazy in love with me as the pastor said you are. Your follower is beyond lost these days and greatly needs a life GPS.

My pastor’s wife said she’s praying for me to find my new home and to love it. To some extent, she’s praying that there’s still time for me to make the right decision, if I haven’t already. You and me both, sister. You and me both.

I think where I’m challenged right now is that it’s all so hard. I don’t mind hard work. I don’t mind hard times because I know they’ll end. But I’m approaching all of this from such a deficiency, from waning mental capacity and health and from every little setback feeling magnified. I keep trying to pray on it. At this point, I just pray to stop crying already and start feeling good enough to push forward and not feel like the universe is shoving back.

The pastor said today that many of us feel comfortable viewing God as emotionless. He’s a manager, a decision-maker, in our minds. He can lay off this person and let that person go and choose another to succeed. But it’s not so, per the Word. He loves us and wants us all to pass this life test with flying colors. And He’ll help, if we ask.

I’m asking.

Something else interesting that came out of today’s sermon is how we were created to walk in fellowship — that we all have a group we’ve been with, through thick and thin and everything in between. Those are/were my current set of colleagues. Every life event happened to us there. And to break away from it is scaring the hell out of me.

I need to break out of this all-or-nothing mentality. I’m not giving anything up. I’m merely exchanging some things for others, but not losing everything in its entirety. And even though I cry like a freaking baby every time I think about what/whom I’ll miss, I’m absolutely fine when I’m gone. Shit, other than lying awake for two very long nights, I was downright happy. (Minus the stressing over housing.)

I guess whatever will be, will be. I just don’t know whether I should try to do more or if I should take everyone’s advice and chill out till tomorrow.

In any case, it looks like I need to leave some of my (precious little) furniture behind. It just won’t fit where I’m taking it, assuming I get either of these places. It just hurts that I have so little in this world, and I’ve worked so hard for it, and there’s just no place for it.

Maybe a massive purge today will make me feel better. Less to pack/carry, less to worry about. Once I get into the groove of making money again (i.e., I know when my next paycheck is coming, but not the one after it), and once I get all these stupid security deposits and moving fees paid (about three months from now), I can hit Swedish Central (i.e., IKEA) and life will be back to normal again.

Lord give me strength (and cash) during the next three months. And if You can only pick one? Cash. Love, that girl I hope You’re crazy about, like the pastor said.

If you’re not humming the Crystal Waters song in the title, you’re lucky. I, on the other hand, am thisclose to not having a roof over my head when I depart D.C. for good.

Argh.

I’ve been working with a wonderful realtor today, who took me all over creation to look at condos and other assorted rental units. At one place, we decided to just see if I could get approved.

I couldn’t.

It kills me that they can see what I make — and my offer letter with what I will be making — and see that I can afford any of these units just fine. I’m not aiming too high, believe me. Goldilocks went “just right” on all of these units. And yet, even though I’ve never missed a rent, utility or student loan payment, those credit-card charge-offs will getcha every time.

When I was in credit-card hell a few years back, I had called the companies and said I would love to make some arrangements. They said nope, we can’t make arrangements till you start missing payments. Which, heh, I sure did. To the point that I never got back on track. That Capital One and Citibank are in the toilet today? It’s all my fault. 😉 Waah.

Anyway, four years later, and heh, joke’s on me. I can’t get anyone to rent me a place to save my little life.

I had a humiliating moment at another place today. Well, less a moment than an hour. They asked for a check for the security deposit. Then they wouldn’t run my credit application until they saw pay stubs. I said I had my offer letter from the new job, so I forwarded them the e-mail. First they couldn’t open the document. Then they made me print it out. Then they said it wasn’t acceptable because it wasn’t on letterhead. Then they text-messaged their boss to ask if we could use it until I can get a “real” letter on Monday. Then they said they wouldn’t take my check and I had to run out to Publix to get a money order.

And on and on and on and ON. OMG, if I weren’t desperate, I wouldn’t have done any of it. But I needed just one yes — otherwise, I’d be starting my new job and having NOWHERE TO LIVE.

Humiliating. Absolutely humiliating.

I was accepted on conditions — one, the waved security deposit fee that they were offering is no longer waived. Plus, add a half-month’s rent on top of that. Basically, don’t show up without more than $2,500 or else you don’t get to move in.

And I didn’t even LIKE the place all that much. All that fucking tap-dancing for a unit I didn’t care much for? Please. I hate feeling like a second-class citizen when I work hard and earn my keep.

There’s another place in the offing, but it’s a long shot. I saw a condo on the water. I mean, on the friggin’ water. Fourth floor. There was a tiny elevator and I doubt most of my furniture will make it (beloved entertainment center, we’ll probably part ways. Sigh). But oh, the view. *swoon*

My realtor is managing the property. The mortgage costs $3,500 a month. The owner is asking a third of that. The whole back wall of the living area is mirrored — you can see the water from any angle. It’s freaking ugly on the outside but breathtaking on the inside. Plus, the kitchen is brand-new, never-used. I mean, PERFECT.

The bad news is that he wants $4,000 in deposits. And doesn’t take pets. And I have to bring the shit machines on paws. ARGH.

My realtor is calling him (in Argentina!) to ask whether we can spread that $4K over three months. Basically I’d be paying double rent for the next fiscal quarter. Sigh. And, oh yeah, OUCH.

I’m trying not to worry. I mean. of course I’m worried. I haven’t had two consecutive hours of sleep since I decided to interview for this new job. But Jesus, getting the job is supposed to be the hard part, not securing shelter in a housing market that’s in the toilet!

Speaking of “in the toilet,” there’s a nice segway into my social life. In other words, with Mom asking me to help HER find a place to live, I made her a deal. I said she could come with me. (Gah.) But she needs to have a job within four weeks and, if she isn’t paying me rent by my birthday in May, there’s a one-way ticket back home for her. I’m sick of this shit not being on my terms. I wouldn’t need a big place like the ones I’m trying to qualify for, if I didn’t have to drag a roomie with me. Maybe I would have caught up on my bills if I didn’t have to MOVE the second I got my promotion so I could accommodate her.

If there is any good that came out of today, it was that my beloved realtor is going through a divorce. And she said her credit is shot, too. And she had just assumed she could go to any random apartment complex and get a unit if things got too bad. (She and her husband are living together during the divorce. Times are tough.) She had no idea the hoops someone has to jump through, to get a crappy apartment on the edge of town. She said she couldn’t figure out why our paths crossed, but that there was probably a reason for it. I guess this was the reason — to show her that it ain’t easy out there.

She said not to worry, because all I need to do is get my ass down here and get settled. We’ll figure out the credit thing together. She’s in the business of getting people into their dream homes, and you don’t let credit hold you back when it can be fixed.

So, it was a stressful day for both of us. But again, I do have a place that’s eight minutes from my new job, and I may have the second option by Monday. It’s a longer drive and it’s about four towns away, but when I get my camera hooked up, I’ll post some photos and you’ll see why I’m just in love with the view. Shit, I can buy new furniture once I pay off all the damn first month, last month, damage, pet and other security deposits. All I need is my bed. And once I get Mommy moved out, I can finally have someone IN my bed and, God willing, I’ll have a reason to be up all night other than with worry!

Ocean Drive

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

It’s 8 p.m. Eastern and I’m normally at work. But not today. I spent the afternoon driving along the Intracoastal Highway and had wine/dinner/cappuccino outdoors. Because it’s 75 degrees where I am. So, why not?

But yeah, I’m back in my hotel, in my jammies, settling in for what I hope will be a respectable sleep. I’ve never stayed at this hotel chain before (my soon-to-be-former company always paid for me to stay in style; since I’m footing the bill this time in an EXPENSIVE city, well, I got what I got).

This hotel aroma is reminiscent of what I envision a dead hooker would smell like. Yummy. *hork*

I have been driving a Chevy Cobalt all day. It’s not bad. It goes faster than my car does; I was being followed by a cop for a while and I was ready to explain that I can put my foot through the floor in my car and it still won’t go, but I just thought about tapping the gas on this one and I was suddenly going 65 on the A1A, which was 25 mph in that neighborhood.

Oops. 🙂

I have to issue a memo to all Florida drivers — THE GAS PEDAL IS ON THE RIGHT. Just like it was in your Model T when you were young, I presume. Hasn’t moved. I’ll help you find it if you’re still confused. 95 is the Interstate number, not the minimum age limit to drive on this road. Love, Goddess.

Can’t WAIT to brave the highways again tomorrow. Good thing my new mystery illness makes me drowsy as hell — I’m too sleepy to really be bothered by everyone else who dares to be on the road with me! 🙂