Turns out no matter how good your credit is, you are still entirely a no-good scamp if your job is not at least 90 days old. No matter! It all worked out and I will do my best to prove that they have not made an enormous mistake.
Once I get over the 90 day hump and pay off a bit more of my car, I'm certain things will really start looking up, credit-wise. I would like to keep the security of optional loans open to my future self. Pip, my old car, is still so very dear to my heart and in great driving condition, so I offered her to my sister and husband as a secondary ride, to which she said "perhaps you should sell it". Turns out there are plenty of people who are in the market for a little monster (Pip's a big Gaga fan) for their first car. The first day I bought Jasper I heard tell of a young man in my home town who may have interest, and the second day - today - I heard of more people at work! I'm glad people are interested, and it would feel really great to help someone get their first car, but I will certainly miss her. I bonded with her for three years. That's longer than any of my relationships. Cars and sentiment of them aside!
This whole living-in-a-new-city thing is not at all what I had pictured; I had forgotten to take into account the hours I would be working while living down here. Other than this current week, my day off per week average has been two while my daily hours clock in around 10 (2-12). That's fifty hours a week. Which, I'm sure, plenty of people do, however I was not at all ready. I had become accustomed to an average of four days a week, each swimming gracefully around 6 hours. Yes, of course, there are pluses and minuses to both scenarios, and as this current job is seasonal I should certainly be soaking up all the hours and shifts my body can possibly take (I love saving money)! However, my body simply cannot take so much abuse as I would like it to, as I get sick without the recommended amount of sleep. As was evidenced by the fever I was so fortunate to experience one of my first weeks down here. I had pushed myself too far. Perhaps not too far for everyone, or even most people. But too far for me and my old, anemic, hypoglycemic body.
This is turning out to be the longest and least entertaining blog thus far. Perhaps ever. Bear with me, imaginary audience, as filling this page with excruciatingly boring details of my life is sure to be quite therapeutic for me. And I need therapeutic, after physically shocking my body (at a late-ish age), and mentally; going from living with someone you talk to all the time about everything (my mother) and filling even your short work days with friends you have known long enough for them to love you and being within reasonable driving distance from your big sis to living in an apartment all by yourself, in which you try your best to not exist or make a mark as you arrive there so late, and the only people you know/love/care about are either at work - the exhaustion station - or what feels like forever away. No regrets, but geez Louise. If there ever was a time to give me a break? It's now. Not that I'm asking for special favors and/or attention; I've done this to myself and I have had it pretty good so far. The point of this paragraph is that I'm not exactly adventuring this new city I've been blessed with as I thought I would, so I'm slowly attempting to make up for lost time.
This place is much more fun for me in the day time. It loses its sense of city and danger and trades it for that of a friendlier, fun atmosphere - albeit, still not without it's cool edge. Ergo, whenever I have had to wake up early (car appointments, phone calls, generally taking care of business) I have made it a point to enjoy something solo. So far I have hit up a sick cafe and an adorable donut shop. Which, having typed it out, hopefully isn't the highlight of this entry, but most likely will be.
I have also started writing again. Which is doubtlessly the MOST thrilling thing that I have done for myself since undertaking this fascinating transformation. Whether it's blogging, writing in my journal about my day or creating a new spooky short story for my sister's local paper (which naturally is the most rewarding, as it involves my sis). I really would love to get all of my paintings somewhere else to clear my creative head space and just focus on this writing thing for a while... We'll see.
No comments:
Post a Comment