Well, I officially, totally, entirely, and for sure, suck. I suck, suck, suck. Mikey called while he was out and decided he would, after all, pick up the stuff I needed at the store for the cake. So I made the cake and I also made a really awesome wreath out of hemlock, white pine, bittersweet berries and dried Queen Anne's Lace flowers. It may not be everyone's cup of tea but I like it a lot. I think it's really pretty and still Chrismassy. But then I didn't go to the party. I called, obviously, to say I wouldn't make it. I'm not a total ass. She seemed fine about it. It's not like we're really friends, we hardly know each other. I think she only invited me because I heard her talking about it to the kid we work with. But still, I didn't want them to worry or think I couldn't find the place, or whatever. I really have no good excuse. I could have made it. I would have been a bit late - but better late than never. Why? Why didn't I go?
Well, for starters, it was a shitty, shitty day. Everything just went wrong. It began by having to drive to the clinic - and Mike had left an oxygen tank in the car. And those f'n things are heavy, and they roll. I can't lift it out of there either and I knew he wouldn't move it first thing in the morning w/out making a major fuss. So I drove with the tank in the car - fling back and forth every time I turned a corner. I thought it was going to go right through the side of the car a couple times. I pulled into the bank, driving as slowly and carefully as possible without causing an accident, and still it was like Slam! Bang! Clunk!; and the woman sitting in a car next to the space I pulled into looked at me as if I were there to bomb the bank and maybe my bomb had gone off early. So I became slightly perturbed early in the day because of the tank being still in the car. See, I've had this discussion with him five majillion times. I've asked him to please take the tank out immediately so I don't get stuck driving around with it slamming around. We drive a little, two-door Honda Civic, so the tank literally throws the car off balance as it flails around in there. It's actually dangerous. It distracts me as well as physically causing me to swerve. Plus, I think it will blow up if it gets slammed hard enough. I know, I've been told, that that CAN"T happen. Can't, Shmant. I don't want to hear it, just get the f'n thing out of the car! So then, obviously, once I got home I bitched about it and that got him all pissed off. So the morning just began all sucky. And then it got worse.
Mike is on unemployment..still. And we get direct deposit of the funds every week, without fail. So we planned on having a certain amount of cash for the weekend. But when we went to check our balance on the on-line banking sight, it said we had nine dollars in the account. So we're like "What the Fuck?". So we looked on the Vermont State unemployment website and it said the check was paid to us on the tenth. So where the hell did the money go? If it's not in our account, where is it? We didn't think there would be an issue because why would there? It's been the same every week for months now. So it was Saturday after noon, the post office was closed so we don't know if maybe they sent it that way for some bizarre reason. And we can't call the office until Monday. And the bank (we called them too, because our bank IS open on Saturdays) and they said they couldn't track it until we talked to unemployment and got more information about how the money was supposed to be paid out. I just can't fathom where it is? How does direct deposit, that's been the same for months, get fucked up? It's not as if it got stuck or lost in a f'n wire across the universe somewhere. It's fricken all electronic. Did someone hit a wrong button somewhere? I don't know. But I DO know we have NO money! Because my new job pays, like, nothing. And my old job is being an asshole about giving me my vacation pay. And I don't need to remind anyone that it's Christmas in, like, two seconds. I'm SO STRESSED! To say the least. Maybe if I didn't have to dish out $105 every week for my methadone I'd be able to swing it. But I only made a hundred bucks from my new job this week. I'm taking a hefty pay cut to be able to work days, I'm physically much happier, I'm just stressed about money. Who isn't? Besides the obvious answers, like celebrities.
But anyhow, I was just stressed to the max about not getting the check that said it was sent. I hate having to wait to take action. I hate being helpless and unable to do anything to fix something. I just have to wait. So I gave half the cake I made to the neighbors upstairs. It was Mike's idea. He talks to the guy a lot and he knew the girl, the pregnant one has been craving chocolate cake. So I decided not to be a mega bitch for, like, a minute and gave them half. But I made Mike bring it up to them, and I better get my plate back! And I'm going to put the wreath on our own door today. I have pictures, but we live in the boonies and only get dial-up Internet, so pictures are a nightmare to download. Maybe I can figure something out by downloading them over the phone or something. We'll see.
But mostly I didn't want to meet a bunch of new people on a day when I was stressed out and frazzled. Also, I didn't want to be the girl who didn't know anyone showing up late while everyone's already sitting down to eat or whatever. I'm so LAME! I overthink everything. I'm so fucking socially awkward. I have to get over it. I'm really trying to make an effort to think of ways to get myself out there more. It's going to take some time though. At least I'm working with actual living people now, not just sitting alone in a shack all night talking to passing truckers. Maybe I can hang out with just her a couple times, get to know her better before going to a party. We have talked about taking a yoga class after work. Maybe just if I take it slow I can do it. I'm a nice person, I'm smart and thoughtful - I just get so worried that people judge me harshly. I have to get over it.
I'm not going to be too hard on myself though. Because I think, overall, I'm making some good steps in the right direction. I've got my new job, which hopefully I'll get a raise at soon. In the interview he told me that once I was trained and doing orders and stuff I would make more than I made at my old job. That's why I accepted less while I'm training - with the promise of more to come. I just hope he keeps his word. Because I can't live off $8.50/hr, it just doesn't cut it. I'll give him until after Christmas and then we'll talk about the future, my future there. If I'm not what he was expecting and he doesn't want to pay me more, I'll have to look for something else. But until then I'll just keep trying to do my best work to show him I'm worth it. I'm a lot of things, but a crappy worker isn't one of them. When I'm working, I work my ass off.
And my Mom is going to help me get my license back for my birthday, help with the fines and clearing up the misunderstanding over our same names. That's a long story. But the stupid Massachusetts DMV messed up our info because we have the same, exact legal names. So they gave her an ID with her picture and my info. And now it's a big stupid mess and they want the both of us to come in and prove there are actually two of us. It was their error but they're treating us as if we tried to commit fraud. To what f'n end? Such fraud would in no way benefit me, would it? So why would we do that on purpose? It's making it really a pain in the ass to fix.
Oh, My! It's almost one, Ah! it IS one in the afternoon. And I've got nothing done at all. My house is a mess, I haven't eaten or worked out. I could spend hours on here, checking out what everyone has to say and blabbing myself away. But then I would regret it when I haven't a lick of clean clothes to wear to my job on Monday. Oh my God, if I can find the handbook I'll have to give you a sample of the crazy dress code rules. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Can you say crazy? But for now I have to run. Literally, in place, in my stinky, dinky living room. But at least I am lucky enough to have an exercise machine at all. Got that in the good ol' days of easy money and drugs, so I won't be able to replace it any time soon. Since those days are long gone. Wish my big, fat belly went with them. I guess I'll have to work on that one all by myself, the old fashioned way, with sweat and tears. Until later, my faithful buddies. Thanks for so loyally enduring my rants, I can't tell you how special it makes me feel when I see your comments. Later.