I suck at life? I can't be the only one who has wondered if I simply suck at life. Before you start wondering just how bipolar I am because yesterday's post was good news, this isn't out of the blue. Shockingly, I do keep the vast majority of my life to myself. I blog about selected topics but I don't tweet or instagram or vomit the details of my life on to multiple social media outlets.
It's been a rough stretch lately in every realm other than dating, which is quite the reversal. After moving back to the US, I got into the world of Electronic Medical Records as a trainer. I enjoy the work, it's interesting and profitable. The problem is that it's contract work and it is as fleeting as sunshine in Seattle in April. I worked about seven and a half months total in 2012 (granted I didn't move back until March. So far in 2013 I've worked about six weeks, which sounds great. When you're working, the prospect of time off to travel or complete tasks around the house is like heaven. The problem is when you're not working, there's no money for travel, or groceries. What people really want is time off work with unlimited resources. I've got a couple leads, but that's been the case since early March. Still nothin'.
When I moved back, I had to get a car. "Lucky" for me, my sister had a car that she used for about a whopping thousand miles a year. Since it was mostly just taking up one of the precious parking spaces on Capitol Hill, she gave/lent/sold it to me. A 1995 Nissan Maxima. I just rolled the odometer over to 150,000 miles yesterday. The engine was replaced at about 140,000 but the rest of the car wasn't. Since I inherited it, I had to recharge the AC ($350), replace the started ($300), replace two taillights and a side mirror ($95), replace both bumper covers ($250), replace the tires ($400 plus the single replacement in Portland for another $50), get an alignment ($80) and switch from regular oil changes at $30 to high mileage oil changes at $45. This car is costing me more than a new car with payments would. Not to mention that it smells like burning oil and has started smoking if I drive is more than fifteen minutes. The catch about living on the West Coast is that it is exceedingly difficult to do so without a car unless you both live and work downtown (which I'd love but isn't likely).
Then there are the thousand little issues that make me think I might suck at life:
I was worried I'd drop my phone in the toilet if I kept it in my back pocket so I moved it to the pocket of my hoodie and only then dropped it in the toilet.
PMS and PostMS have hit like an avil on the coyote's head. I'm a roaring, irrational bitch who may have had an internal organ melt down for all I'm bleeding. Good luck to anyone who's trying to have a conversation with me, especially 25.
Either due to my "monthly friend" or other reasons, I've had either a stabbing stomachache or screaming headache pretty much every day for about the last three weeks. I don't know the cause but it's getting old.
I've been very consistently hitting the gym for the last six weeks. I've been a little better about what I'm eating but did have a wedding and two birthdays during that timespan. Yet I haven't dropped so much as a pound. I am, however, pounding my head against the wall.
A bottle of creme de cacao tipped over in the car and now it smells like tootsie rolls.
The dog chews up something on a weekly basis.
The cat has become a whiny bastard and doesn't seem to be happy with anything I do to appease him. I realize that sounds typical of most cats, but he's never been that way before.
I think I'm just going to stop the list now.
On a lighter note:
I have managed to turn the Room of Doom (former bedroom/craft room.office that was overtaken by crap and became a storage room) into a less doomy, more usable room.
I've planted spinach, broccoli, tomatoes, garlic, two types of basil, four fuscia hanging baskets, and three sunny flower planters.
I am still going to the gym.
I'm figuring out how to use a food dehydrator, cook things I usually buy and stretch every dollar in the kitchen.
I haven't run 25 off.
I haven't started drinking at ten am . . . yet.
Maybe I only suck at certain swaths of life, not all of it.
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