What happens when the anti-anxiety meds run out.

It's been four days, and I'm about ready to die. Who was it that warned me that this idea was bad? Oh wait, that was no one. Or maybe people did warn me, but I was high on Celexa at the time, and decided living with family is FUN. Capital letters and everything!

I don't have a home, people, and that's slowly creeping up to become worse than living without regular Internet access. Also worse than missing three straight weeks of Grey's Anatomy.

Don't get me wrong. I love family. I love that Grandma offers to make me hot dogs while I'm visiting The Cats, even though hot dogs are right up there with pulling out eyelashes by the fistful. I love that Mom lets us steal the couch to catch up on Wednesday night television, because am I the only one that watches Dirty Sexy Money? I love that damn show.

But Jesus Christ. I'm going stir crazy, which could also be attributed to my unemployment, but still. I don't know which family we'll be intruding at night. What's for dinner, if there is dinner. When I leave, people ask where I'm going. And when I'll be back. I don't have time to blog because I have to go feed the cats, who are couped up in a basement in the next town over.

I need a home.

Last night I may or may not have had a minor meltdown, which is not uncommon when I'm both unemployed and homeless. And I think Jeremy tends to get sick of A) my moods and B) crying, but that's approximately when I tell him to shove it because I CAN CRY IF I WANT TO. Again with the capital letters.

I probably said that to him. Once or twice.

Sigh.

I know, life is HARD, right? Poor, little Krista doesn't have a home. Or a job. Wah.

Yeah, well, shove it. This is my blog and I'll bitch if I want to.

If I had money, I'd turn to retail therapy. Spending money always finds a way to make me happy, until I balance my checkbook. If I had unlimited access to new CDs and books, the need for medication would be obsolete. I could also use a manicure... I highlighted my hair the other day, and the bliss of that is just starting to wear off.

Point. I need a job. Because once I land a job, we can find a home. And once I find a home, I can blow-dry my hair in my underwear. Because, dammit, I have priorities.