The Map, The Plan, The Wrong Turn.

OK, fine. I admit it. I’m having a shitty day, I’m in a bad mood. At some point, you have to stop fighting it and just go with it. Thing is, I don’t have the option of losing my shit today. I don’t have the option of lying in bed eating Little Debbies and drinking vodka. No. For I have work to redo.

This morning, I went to Midas to be told that I need new brakes, which I knew, but (because I stalled for so long on getting the new brakes), I also needed new rotors. The bill came out at $315 dollars. I’m told that this was a good price, but that knowledge doesn’t make it not 315 bucks that I don’t have.

When my boss cut my hours, she said she’d hoped it would only be for 3 months. 3 months ends July 1 and I haven’t gotten an update on the work situation. So far, by avoiding spending money on anything I didn’t really need, I have managed to not have to break into my savings account. That ended today, and I now owe myself a thousand dollars. I am slowly sinking into quicksand, and all I can do is keeping trying to hustle and score freelance work. It is endless and tiring and, even when it works, I barely break even. I went to college. Twice. I have spent 30 years trying to be better, faster, and stronger than everybody else, and it’s gotten me HERE. Driving a car that sometimes requires me to have a hammer on hand, and never knowing when the next big blow is coming. One day, something’s going to break and it’ll just have to stay broken.

I considered telling Jen that we couldn’t have dinner each week anymore because it’s something that I’d rather not spend money on right now, but Jen’s leaving soon. In the grand scheme of things, I’d rather have time spent with her than save 60 bucks a month.

I am running out of drugs and beginning to suspect that my shrink did not, in fact, fax in the scrips like he said he would. He probably asked his useless, rude secretary to do it. I don’t know how someone with a medical degree could possibly be the last person on Earth to know that his secretary doesn’t do a single, god-damned thing she is required to do, but there it is. I stopped expecting her to be anything other than rude and useless years ago. So, here I am. Running out of drugs, and preparing to send him an email involving the phrase, “do you seriously think I don’t have enough to be stressed about right now?”

So, I’m here redoing some work that I can’t even charge for because I stupidly assumed that the information my friend gave me was correct. Wrong. Now, I get to redo 4 hours of work and I can’t even bill for it. Even though I’m under-billing this client in an almost major way, he’s probably still going to be pissed when he gets his invoice because he’s on a budget. I have been as fast as I can without cranking out shitty work, but sometimes it’s about fast and not about good.

Katy once asked me how I get up and work on a day when I really just sort of want to lay in bed. “You walk into the kitchen, look at the stack of bills, and then you fucking suck it up.” I had thought that coming to Panera to work would keep me from lying in bed and crying today. I was half right.

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