Caterwauling

They say a fool is easily parted with his money. What am I, the goddamned village idiot? When is life going to stop treating me as its chew toy?

“I got a chip on my shoulder
About the size of a mental block
I’ve got someone on the telephone
Trying to sell me a future in stock

Maybe I work too hard to be happy
And I should practice letting go
But it’s hard not to rock the boat
When you’re sailing against the undertow.”

— Indigo Girls, “Make it Easier”

It’s been a horrible couple of months. I’m trying to figure out just when this run of bad luck started (Mom says it was around the time I signed my new lease) or whether it has been a lifelong streak and it’s just more intense now than usual.

I don’t remember feeling this defeated before. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m Charlie Brown always trying to kick the football and falling on my ass. I know that. But at what point is the bad news going to stop coming and let me mentally get myself back together?

I have a bill from my ex-apartment complex for carpet replacement, on top of everything else. They can sit and spin. I lived there four months and there was one stinky, messy Maddie stain. But they lie when they say they have to replace the carpet in the whole house.

I’m still twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my new debit card. I had to cancel my car appointment. The thing is not only dented to death, but it isn’t running right either. How convenient is it to turn on the A/C and then the brakes don’t work? Good times.

That’s what pisses me off the most about some asshole cleaning out my account. Not only can I not exactly spare it, but I don’t exactly have anyone who can rescue my miserable ass. And I’m getting pretty fucking sick of being everyone’s savior but when it comes my turn, I honestly don’t have a prayer.

(This is not to discount one lovely friend who keeps insisting on helping me. I just figure that if someone tries to send money through the mail, that will be the day that the postman’s brakes go and he drives into the Intracoastal Waterway … anything to keep aid from coming to me personally!)

I also understand that I’m in for a fight with the electric company. My twee 1,000-square-foot condo, where I keep the A/C on 83 degrees at all times, somehow costs $450 to power per month. Uhhh, right. They’re being bitches at the electric company as I am demanding they come out and figure that shit out.

My landlady said that a condo opened up across the way with a south view. I’m north-facing, which is lovely, but the south view is the bomb-diggity, yo. Here’s the deal. It’s a 3BR and costs $500 less than Mom’s apartment and mine combined.

I so very DO NOT WANT her to move back in with me. But I am also lying to myself if I think she will ever be able to pay her own bills. I really truly think that she will be with me for the rest of her life. I also suspect that probably won’t be very long because she’s not well and I have a death wish.

I think saving $500 a month is a good enough reason to take the other apartment. But … I have nothing here. Nothing. Nothing to make me happy. No one to love, no one to love me, no friends, absolutely not a goddamned thing to keep me going anymore.

I’m hemorrhaging money on absolutely dumb shit and I cannot for the life of me manage to get out of bed without spending any less than an hour of coaxing myself that today MIGHT be better than yesterday. ALL I HAVE is my space. Even if my mom is often in it, I can reclaim it at any time.

I just wonder if this run of horrific luck is trying to tell me something. But … what?

This entry was posted on Friday, October 16th, 2009 at 6:29 AM and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.