Today I started Christmas shopping. Mike is letting me borrow a little bit of money so that I can actually buy everyone gifts. When I say I’m broke, I mean I am broke. I don’t have a single spare dollar to my name. I even have to borrow money from him so that I can pay an upcoming bill — and usually I have enough money budgeted out so that even “next month’s” bills are taken care of. I have paychecks coming in; I just don’t know when.
So, I’m broke.
Luckily, I have an awesome boyfriend who is making extra money working third shift. I’d be completely screwed without him right now. I cannot even tell you how difficult it is to swallow my pride and ask for money when, since I was sixteen, I’ve been making my own money to buy what I want (and some of what I need; my parents still feed me, and even when I was working as a teenager, still bought me food, clothes, and stuff). My mom is going to help me with medical bills and expenses, but otherwise, I’ve got nothing. I feel really bad asking Mike for anything. I mean, I know we’re a team, and I know I’d help him if he needed it — and have helped him in the past — but it still sucks. I like being independent. Hell, I guess you could say I’m kind of addicted to it, and super stubborn.
So yes, it’s been bothering me that Mike is the only one putting gas into my car, and that he’s been supporting both of our cigarette habits (though I have definitely cut way down on smoking), and that he’s buying everyone’s Christmas gifts. It bothers me that even if I had felt good enough to go out last Friday night, I still couldn’t have, because going out costs money — even at the cheapest bar in town. And yes, it bothers me that I can’t go out this coming Friday, but what am I supposed to do? There’s nothing I can do. Even if all of my clients paid their invoices and put them in the mail this week, I will not be able to get paid until the end of the month.
When that happens? I will pay Mike back. I will take him out to dinner for being so wonderful. I will go out with my friends and buy a round of drinks to say “Happy Birthday.” I will book an appointment at the spa for a motherfucking massage because I’ve been so stressed out, I fucking deserve one.
Also? The score is now: flareup 16, me 3. I am pretty sure the itchy bumps on the back of my right hand are another rash. Either that, or I got bit by a spider. (Please, please let them be spider bites.) The rash on my chin is definitely bigger. It’s not too itchy anymore, though. It’s just annoying, knowing it’s there; everyone else swears they don’t notice it, but I do.
I am not feeling very Christmasy at all.
To top it off, every time I think of shopping, I think of how there is one less person on my list this year.
Alternate title: “What I spent 1,000+ words on, instead of working on my NaNoWriMo novel.”
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Somewhere in the last couple of weeks, I’ve developed a mystery allergy. I’m itchy — all over — with no hives, bites, eczema scales, or anything visible. I get so itchy, at times, that I scratch until I bleed. At first, I thought it was dry skin, but I’ve been using lotion and paying attention throughout the last week, and my skin isn’t actually too dry. (The palms of my hands, on the other hand*, are wicked dry. They don’t itch, though.)
Then I thought it might be the laundry detergent we’re using. I put a little bit on my arm, rubbed it in with a Qtip, and went outside for a cigarette. Aside from being very cold because I couldn’t wear a jacket over my detergent-arm, nothing happened.
I got a little worried because a friend of mine has neighbors with a flea/bedbug/cockroach problem, but I don’t have any bites or marks (other than scratches from scratching so much). My friend and her kids are all fine, though, so I don’t think I could have picked any of it up, either.
Tonight, as I was cleaning out my cat’s brush, it hit me: Maybe I have developed an allergy to my cats’ dander. It would make sense. I pinned down that my bathrobe was making me the most itchy. It is 100% polyester, but none of my other polyester or polyester-blend clothing makes me itch. However, my cat slept on it every night for about a week. I’ve since washed it in hot water, and although I haven’t worn it, I’m willing to bet that it won’t make me itchy anymore. I also washed my sheets, comforter, pillow cases, afghan, and fleece blanket — yes, I sleep with a lot of blankets — recently, and the itching got a little less itchy.
I hate to admit that I could be allergic to my furry little child, but it’s kind of looking like it. I’m having visions of having to give Squirt (my baby) and Apollo (my parents’ baby) a dander bath, and of Squirt clawing my face off because she hates water. (The one and only time we had to give her a flea bath — because the people who gave her to me let their cats go in and outside without ever giving them flea treatments — she was pissed. And this was when she was a kitten; I’d hate to see how she’d react now.)
Blaine — thank you, Blaine! — suggested I try an antihistamine. I need to refill my Claritin-D pretty badly, anyway, so hopefully that will do the trick. I cannot believe I may have developed an allergy to my cats, but I feel lucky that I’m not swelling up or anything.
The other alternative is that Mike is right and it’s dust mites, which creeps me out so badly that I’d rather be allergic to my fuzzball.
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I’m so ashamed, I’ve been so mean “Simple Kind of Life,” No Doubt
This song is pretty close to summing up the last few days for me. I want to go back to Friday and slam my self-absorbed little head into the wall. Okay, so maybe I don’t want to hurt myself, but I’m pretty ashamed of that girl. That is not me, and I am disgusted at my own behavior. I didn’t mean it, at all, but I’m still ashamed.
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I’ve been writing like mad. I fell behind for a little bit, and honestly it was partly because I was too tired to write, and partly because I lost faith in my story. A handful of awesome people — Blaine, Jess, Becky, Sanya, and Veronica, to name a few — have been encouraging me to keep going, and have (just today) made me realize that I need to have faith in my story. I’ll be honest: for a little while there, I thought it sucked and that I should stop and do something else. I was afraid that I’d failed to create the strong characters I wanted to create. They’re still not as strong as I’d like them to be, but when Jess BBMed me tonight and told me how much she loved the story and the characters, how strong they are, I said to myself, “You need to trust your story and your own writing; you are doing better than you thought you were.” (I may have actually said, “I need to trust my story…” but most likely, this conversation took place in the third person. Sigh.)
Tonight — or, okay, this morning, apparently; it’s after midnight now — I plan on breaking 13,000 words, but it’s become less about the word count and more about finishing it** and then editing it, because holy shit, there are actually people reading who expect a new chapter every day. I was, in a daydreaming sort of way, entertaining the idea of self-publishing the edited, complete version, but at the time told myself that that would be putting the cart before the horse… Now, it’s still putting the cart before the horse, but it’s a lot less of a daydream and more of a thought; I’m really thinking about it now.
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I may be rich with word count and chapters, but I am broke. I just finished a client’s website and am starting a new one, though, and am expecting payment from another client soon, so hopefully in another week or so I won’t have to worry about my bills. I feel horrible that Mike is the only one putting gas into the car, and that I haven’t given my mom money toward our car insurance, and that two major bills are coming up — one of which I’m not sure I can afford at all; it will all depend on how soon I next get paid.
Honestly, I’m kind of thinking of getting a part-time job somewhere. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, to be honest, but there are a few things that hold me back. I definitely don’t think I could handle two jobs right now. I want to stick this self-employment thing out, really, but the longer I go in this position, the more I miss having that secure weekly or bi-weekly paycheck (among other things). Maybe I should give it until the beginning of the new year, and then decide.
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So what’s new with you?
*No pun intended.
**I especially want to finish this because it will only be the second novel I’ve ever actually finished writing. I still haven’t finished The Cure Program or Secondhand Mom. I really suck at finishing things; it has to be done right away, or it gets harder for me to come back to.
I’m broke. My pharmacy tried to kill me. My uterus feels as if there were a kitten inside of it trying to claw its way out.
Ah, yes. It’s good to be me.
Between doctors appointments and being sick, my check was… a lot less this week, and will be… even more less next week. Normally, I’d tap into my savings account, but I’ve already done that. The money in there is supposed to go toward repairs for my car: mounts, brakes, blower motor. I have a little money left in my business account, but tax season will soon be upon us and I would sort of like to be able to pay said taxes without scrambling or resorting to selling oregano as marijuana. (I’m totally kidding about that last part. Please don’t come after me, FBI.)
So I’m a little tight for money. I have yet to buy my mom a birthday present, even though her birthday was two weeks ago. I feel like the biggest jerk alive, even though she says she doesn’t care. Of course she doesn’t care! She’s my mom. But I still feel like she deserves so much, and I can’t even give her one little birthday gift.
On top of all of the being broke, my pharmacy has it out for me. Somewhere along the line, someone screwed up my birth control dosage — which explains why, for the last few months, I’ve had awful cramps. As in, I don’t ever get cramps. As in, they fucking HURT. (Did I mention the kitten? Yeah. Enjoy that mental image.) To make a long story short, I’m supposed to be on a higher dosage birth control that does NOT have a generic version, and someone fucked up and gave me the generic version — of a lower dosage, and lower price. So tomorrow, when I go to pick up the correct, non-kitten-clawing-its-way-out-of-my-uterus version, it’s gonna cost me $40. I also have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow that is going to cost me $30. I so miss the insurance we used to have, the one with no co-pays that covered EVERYTHING.
I keep trying to figure out why, as a person with a normally high-paying job, I have no money. It’s not like I blow it away on stuff. I’m pretty good with a budget. I mean, there is my Target addiction, but I have mastered getting my fix without going broke. (Ask me about their dollar aisle. Do it now!!)
I have to get the birth control, because without that I’ll probably end up with a baby instead. And I’m having a hard time imagining having a baby when I am broke as it is and sleep in a dining room. (Someday I’ll get to that.)
I have to go see the rheumatologist tomorrow, because he has my blood test results and I’d kinda like to know what the fuck is wrong with me. That would be nice. (Too bad he can’t just give them to me over the phone, like Pam the PA does. But I digress.)
And the car? Yeah, I might want to have those repairs done, since I drive about forty minutes away from my city three times a week to go to school. I don’t know why, but I don’t exactly want to break down (or go without heat when the frost hits). So those repairs are kinda important.
But don’t worry. I’ll figure it out like I always do. It’s not like anyone who has ever borrowed money from me is willing to help right now (you know who you are), so I’ll just take care of it myself.
Did I mention that I’m also really stressed out right now because it turns out I have a million things to do — including taking a HUGE test — so that I can get into the Education Department at my school (so I can be a teacher)? Yeah. I won’t even get into that right now.
I feel sick right now, and it isn’t just the cold I caught.
I just got back from a vacation in Idiotville and decided to register for a class this summer. The bill? $1126. For just one class.
I can set up a payment plan, which would be four payments of $281.50, plus a $45 payment plan fee with the first payment. Can you say ouch?
Did I mention that I also need to buy CS4? The copy of CS3 that I had is dead (don’t ask: it’s a long, painful story), and the trial I downloaded dies in three or four days.
I’d just let the CS4 go but I need it for work. I can’t very well take on freelance jobs with just MS Paint and Notepad.
The question here, folks, is why in the world does one class cost more than a thousand beans?
I know I’ll figure it out — I always do — but in the meantime, I’m going to consider bounty hunting or human trafficking.
PS: I forgot to add that I also need to buy a new phone; my current phone keeps turning itself on, even though it’s already on. Yeah.
