(Note for anyone who commented on the last entry: I finally wrote back. Sorry for the delay)
I've been dealing with a few "b" words lately.
"Bitch" is, I feel, an appropriate term for everything that's going on right now. For one, there's some turnover going on at work, and it basically makes everyone super cranky pants and constant complainers about everyone else. I mostly try to stay out of it, but it's all going to trickle down to me at some point, which I'm not excited about. That alone wouldn't be such a big deal, but it's on top of some other things, such as the fact that I'm moving. Yep, moving.
I've lived in the same house for almost three years, and I have a lot of stuff. It is also a huge mess (one of the reasons I'm excited about moving - a smaller place will have less surface area that requires washing!), and contains many things that belong to none of the people currently living there, because it's been occupied for so long and never had a proper mucking-out. Leaving that house is a daunting task, and I'd probably be freaking out more overtly if it actually felt real. I left a message for my landlord, but I haven't communicated directly with him yet, so it still feels a little abstract. That'll change soon.
Dylan and I have applied for an apartment together, which is awesome, but also brings with it a host of issues. For one, the decision that we were all leaving the house was a little sudden, and neither of us were financially prepared for it, meaning we had to borrow some money from our dad. I HATE BORROWING MONEY. I don't have any credit cards for a reason: I don't like spending money that isn't mine. Having to suck it up and ask for money was hard, but necessary. I've never really asked for money from my parents before (other than "Hey, if you want to help with school..." but that's more implying I could use some money than it is asking for it), but at least I only needed like $200, which I can pay back quickly. Dylan, on the other hand, has asked for money before, plus they're just way harder on him than they are on me, so I've had to hear a lot lately about how irresponsible Dylan can be. Yeah, I know. But he can also be responsible. Maybe we could assume the best before we assume the worst? But that's hard to point out when I also need a hand-out. I'm not in a moral-superiority bargaining position.
Most of you know by now that my foot is broken. Yeah, it sucks. Yeah, I have a stupid cast that my stupid friends wrote stupid things on. Yeah, my armpits hurt like a motherfucker.
When I first broke it, I thought the whole thing was kind of funny. It was 4 am, I was at home with my drunk roommates having a "dance party," and I was jumping up and down to "Flagpole Sitta." Some of you know why the last part makes it take the cake on ridiculousness. I was all hobbled, and could hardly get out the door of my house to go to the doctor, since there were video game cords everywhere. Hilarious, right?
There's obviously more to say, but I started this at lunch and need to get back to work. Will update later!