Word flu and capital letters.

I've officially switched gears and have begun the search for my own apartment, as opposed to shacking up with my sister. Whimper.

It was easier to search as a team. It's sort of like wearing arm floaties at the beach. Cannot drown in arm floaties, you guys. Sister = arm floaties. But arm floaties do not help a couple of chicks find a two-bedroom apartment with two bathrooms. We were having a hell of a time.

The entire process was proving more difficult than if she just stayed where she's at in her studio, and I found my own place.


I'm nervous. My credit is not the happiest right now, given the unemployment and financial woes of recent months. In fact, my credit probably has a gun pointed at my head right now and I don't even know it.

I need to cross my fingers and hope that potential landlords don't look at me and laugh.

I'm also counting down the seconds until I begin full-time employment. July 6, which is about four-days-short-of-one-month too far away. I JUST WANT TO WORK. I want to sit at a desk. I want a bi-weekly paycheck. I want to pay my bills.


I want to close my eyes and wake up in six months. In six months I'll be settled in a job. I'll go home at the end of the day to my own apartment. I'll have steady income. I'll have income, period.

I don't even know what steady income is anymore. May as well be a damn unicorn. BECAUSE IT IS MYTHICAL.

Money is the root of all evil. And my life is seriously stuck on a rotation. Wasn't this just happening to me SIX MONTHS AGO?

Sometimes, if I think too hard about all of this, I drown. I want my dang arm floaties! I think, "Gosh, if I stumble off my bike right now onto this highway, I'll end up in traction, or in a coma, and NONE OF THIS WILL MATTER, PUT ME TO SLEEP."

Or, "Swine flu! Please!"

Sometimes, "Sunburn? OK. Sunburn leads to skin cancer leads to death leads to NO MORE BILLS."

Then I realize I just fucking said that. And shake my head.

Money is the reason they make alcohol. And ice cream.