Woohoo, I've been all productive today! Well, okay, no, not really. I got a bit done online though. I redid my "cast" page (listing people I mention in this diary) and merged the pages containing a mail form (you fill it out and send, it puts your message into my email, sweet eh?) and the notify list, because really, who gives a damn? My notify list has seven people on it. I think that about as many as it's ever had. I'm estimating 10-12 people on DiaryLand have me on their buddy list
EDIT: Actually, 21 diaries are listed as listing me on their buddy lists, but at least three are people with multiple diaries who've listed me on both. Four or five are dead now too. Kinda wish Andrew would figure out how to remove those from everybody's lists.
. . . I haven't caught any offsite links leading people here, just occasional search engines misdirecting people . . . wow. I'm all alone in a sea of Net or something.
Well. Big stuff in my life. Let's see if I can get this all online without that feeling in my stomach. You all know the feeling, I imagine, though those of you with anxiety will be more intimately familiar with it than the rest. It's that empty lump in my abdomen that simultaneously inflates and squeezes your intestines and crochets them into floral-pattern doilies. The one that makes you wish you could vomit whatever is making you feel so awful, but you know it's irrevocably knotted into place by now.
Right. The big stuff. Stupid tummy-tangle trying to form. Mleh.
Um. Right. So, I'm on the last month of a year-long lease. Sin and I pretty much want to stay in this house for another year, and if the gal from Detroit would just frelling call him BACK, we'd only need one more to make the house financially possible to lease for another year.
The one additional person we need is, I guess, me.
If that's confusing, it's because my command of the English language has been shot to hell. Blame comic books, blame Jerry Falwell just because he's a great target, blame the Taliban, I don't much care.
The -- oh, HELL. Look, here you go. I don't want to move out and if we're not renting for another year, we should have given the landlord one month notice before moving out. Today being 2 May and the lease expiring at the end of May means that since we haven't said anything, it's assumed that we're staying.
The deal with me being the one extra person we need is that my mother has decided, and reasonably so, that she doesn't want to pay my rent for another year. She's convinced this nice big house is overpriced. Like she's rented anything since the the Carter administration. I've never even seen her renting a video, but that's not the point.
The point is, the landlord thinks we're staying another year because we've led him to that conclusion from what we've said before. And I don't wish to dissuade him.
I want to stay here.
So I'm trying to combat my horrible job phobia. I actually nearly hyperventilated yesterday. I wanted to just pass out and not have to deal with anything. I did manage to go to the job center and get some applications -- decent ones this time, for stuff I can actually do. I got them filled out and just need to turn them in. I also need to go a few places directly and get applications straight from them.
I fell asleep at 2 P.M. yesterday, utterly exhausted. I wouldn't have been able to drive properly and felt it was best to let my brain take a break, having tried to be responsible.
I am going to do something very stupid if I don't get a happy bouncy you've-got-work phone call in the next few days. It's foolish of me, and irresponsible.
I am going to sign the new lease anyway, and just pray to God that I have a job by the end of the month, so I can cover June's rent. I am going to enter a legally binding contract to pay money that I do not have, and have no means to get . . . .
I'm a colossal idiot, I've got to be. That's ridiculous. I've never been able to get a job before, with the exception of one that I got just because I was TJ's sister. That last only slightly more than one day. It didn't end well at all. And I want to repeat that? I want to feel that crappy again?
This is silly. I should get in the car and go visit and talk to my mom. I should put all my winter clothes in the trunk and start moving things back to her place and not force her to pay more money for my rent when I'm not able to pay anything myself. Me, get a job? I can't even remember to buy soap before I'm completely out!
I don't wanna go put job apps in. It's scary and I don't know where these places are. I just know what street they're on, and it's a busy street. I'd have to turn, hang a left, and it's the busiest street in town.
I want to stay at home in my nice cotton pajamas and fuzzy robe and smack the toaster into working so I can actually have toast. I want to read Superman comics and novels online and I don't want to try to get a job. Sin won't help. I think he's gone for the weekend, even though it's barely Friday yet.
Read the webcomic. Yes. Ignore the job thing or ignore breathing, can't concentrate on both at once. (Which should tell you how much head trauma I sustained as a young girl.)