are you SERIOUS

So, it’s just one of those days I guess. Or weeks. Or years. Like, you finally think things are looking up. You pay off all your credit card debt, you get a new company car, your job doesn’t suck . . . sure, your entire department was eliminated from that website you used to write for, so there’s a couple extra hundred bucks a paycheck you don’t have anymore. But hey! You don’t have credit card payments anymore, and sure you don’t actually own a car, but obvious plus side! You don’t have to make car payments on a car you don’t own!  Like I said, things are looking up. And yeah, not having a roommate anymore is going to be a little more expensive, but remember the plus side? No car payments! No credit card debt!

And then, AND THEN.

Okay, I’m being dramatic, but seriously, SERIOUSLY. The universe is being a complete asshole to me this week. First I had to have this thing carved off my leg and biopsied (it’s probably nothing . . . probably) and now I have stitches in my leg and it hurts a lot and I’m being a huge baby about it. So I’ve got this new financial situation going on that I haven’t quite figured out, and I’m moving this weekend, and I’m gravely wounded . . . and then today happened. Again, it’s not that bad so don’t freak out or anything, but it FEELS that bad. Maybe that makes me an asshole, because so many people in this country and not in this country have it so much worse off than I do, and if so, THEN I AM AN ASSHOLE. But I actually felt like writing this out, which meant I felt like writing*, which meant I actually had something to say, which would be an improvement over the last month and a half of my life. So I’m going with it.

*Not feeling like writing is a side effect of something that has happened to me, but I’m not entirely sure which thing that was.

So I was all excited because I was picking up the keys to my new apartment today, but when I actually got there, the situation, as they say, deteriorated.** Due to a lot of boring but anxiety-causing details that I’m not going to go into, I basically have to double pay August’s rent on my new apartment, which was something I very much wanted to avoid. On top of that, once I got into the actual apartment, it smelled like smoke, and the configuration of the bathroom means that I am either going to have to put the litter-box on my bathroom counter, or in an extra closet in my bedroom. Either option is not going to be pleasant. So I was distracted, and aggravated, and I forgot to take a gate key with me on my way out. There was a large rock propping up the gate, and I went out of my way to kick the rock and close the gate. Approximately one second after I committed these actions, I realized that I was now effectively locked out of my apartment. That last part is my favorite part of this story, by the way.

**I may or may not have picked this phrase up into my vocabulary due to re-watching five seasons of Stargate SG-1*** in less than a week and a half. I never said I made good decisions all the time.

***Remember what I said above about not feeling like writing? What I meant was that I don’t feel like writing anything that isn’t Stargate SG-1 fanfiction, which is all my brain wants to do now. I say to that: Brain, you do what makes you happy, but the consequence of this is that I spent eight hours last Saturday writing something that I will show nobody and that will not help me further my writing career IN THE SLIGHTEST.

This is the state of mind I was in when I backed my two week old car into a pole and it went CRUNCH.

Now, I acknowledge this was 99% my fault, but I would also like to lodge a complaint with the universe and whatever fuckwit decided it was a good idea to put a tiny little pole in my blind spot. I mean, who puts a pole near the passenger side back door? It should be in the middle or up front so people can see it. This is how things would be in a logical universe. And did I mention before about how it’s not even technically my car? And about how my boss’s face went white when I told him what happened, and how I honest to God thought he was going to have a stress-induced aneurysm while standing in front of me because I, his idiot employee, sideswiped her brand new car INTO A MOTHERFUCKING POLE? DID I MENTION THAT PART YET.

To sum up: 1) I have stitches in my leg and it’s going to escalate and I’m probably going to die tomorrow from who knows what, maybe some flesh eating bacteria or gangrene; 2) I am moving this week, which means dishing out lots of money, and packing; 3) I HAVE TO PACK UP ALL MY THINGS AND MOVE THEM AND THEN UNPACK THEM AGAIN; 4) I am locked out of my new apartment; 5) Smoke and litter box in the closet; 6) I smashed up my two week old car that isn’t even mine and now I have to pay even more things and I hate everybody.

It’s like that wise philosopher Rachel Karen Green once said of life, the universe, whatever: “I mean, isn’t that just kick-you-in-the-crotch spit on your neck fantastic?”

Yes, Rachel, YES IT IS.

19 responses

  1. I think having a giant chunk of flesh carved out of your leg gives you ample excuse to be a huge baby about, like, everything. Especially items 1 through 6.

    • Well . . . I may have been slightly exaggerating about my leg, but there is a huge purple and yellow bruise now from where she sawed into me! I should take a picture and upload it. It’s totally gross.

  2. I agree with your friend Kat. You are allowed to be pissed off. Dude, seriously when it rains it pours, but at least it can only get better. I think. I know you hate the phone, but I wish we stayed in touch better. I can’t believe all the awesome and crappy things going on with you! I’m calling you later today. I’m sending you a virtual hug!

    • Why do you always call me when I’m at work? Thanks for the virtual hug. Also, if your logic was correct, shouldn’t it have gotten better by now? I feel like I’ve been in this huge rut for over a year now and it is so yucky and awful.

  3. Um, yes, what Kat said. Also, regarding your fanfiction-writing conundrum, allow me to paraphrase something the very wise Heather Anne Hogan once told me, when I was feeling down in the dumps about writing and my job and life in general:

    Pretend someone is paying you to launch your writing career. Every time you get a free minute, write and write and write, and even if it’s something you’ll never show anyone, you can still think to yourself, “wow, that piece of fanfic just sold for $100!” or something like that. Because really any writing you do is going to help you in the long run, because writing requires practice and patience so the more writing you do, the more practice you get and the more patient you get, right?

    PS: This is something I need to remind myself often (and actually, like, currently I should be reminding myself of this daily), which is why I have Heather’s email of advice starred in a special Gmail folder.

    Anyway. I’m sorry you’re having a rough time because you are one of my favorite people and I don’t like when my favorite people are not experiencing life at 100% rainbows and puppies.

    • I’ve decided that Heather Anne Hogan is actually not a real person because she is too good to be true. Except not really because she totally understands about fanfic.

      Thanks for your thoughts, I appreciate them muchly.

      P.S. Remember when we had a writing group and we all totally neglected it? Good times.

    • It so is. And thank you. Also, you haven’t blogged either! Are you in the same writing rut that I’m in? Because if so, we should have a pity party together.

      • Yup. I think my job is trying to kill me. Can there be cake at our pity party? (Who am I kidding–of course there’s going to be cake.)

  4. Moving SUCKKKKKKKSSSSSS. The universe is the worst. But moving is worser than worst, and that is why your life is spiraling into hellish black hole. But luckily tomorrow is a new day, your leg will heal eventually, your boss is a car insurance agent, and you have friends who can help you pack all of the things. I will be over tomorrow to help you Dumpling. It will be okay. But until then, wallow in it. Because that sucks A LOT.

  5. :( I’m sorry you had to go through such a mega-sucky stretch of craptastic crappiness. I hope the universe is being less of an asshole to you now. (You hear that universe? Lay off.)

  6. Boy do I understand the everything sucks-ness of your days lately ~ I wish I had a magic wand or some excellent words of comfort. I do not, but I do think you are allowed to be a big baby for a while if you want to… and screw anybody who thinks different.

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