Sorta.
Yesterday, I had a mental breakdown and attacked Costa (verbally, not physically…although the thought crossed my mind). The apartment is a wreck. We have no boxes and 4 days to move our shit from point A (current apartment) to point B (new apartment). I’m freaking out: our new apartment is very nice…and very expensive. In the meanwhile, my impulsive spending hasn’t improved. Right now I’m looking at $-350 to my name. Not even funny. Car payment hasn’t been made for this month, have a doctor appointment (again) with a $35-co pay and not even sure what other bills I’m forgetting.
Speaking of wreckage, here’s what I’m dealing with right now: This first pic? My living room…not so bad right?
And then you walk two steps further to the bedroom.
Sigh. The plan:
Monday: Get utilities switched over so that we have running water and electricity Friday night. Beg local grocery stores for used boxes.
Tuesday: Pack like a bunch of packing mad people. Everything non essential (re: food, computers, and clothes for the week) goes into boxes.
Wednesday: Panic. D-Day in 2 days. Continue to pack what should have been packed the day before. Check my budget once again to see how broke I will be from now on. Make note to self to ask doc for prescription of Prozac. Hustle ass to doctor to get fluid removed from knee.
Thursday: Think about starting up smoking again. Seriously. Stress should be killing me by now. Blinds must be bought and replaced (kittens chewed through them).
Friday: Moving Day. Costa will get Uhaul truck. I will cry as my paycheck reaches my bank account at 12:01am and promptly leaves as I shell out a cool $1000 for moving fees (and that’s just my half).
Friday evening: Freak out, sweat, and grunt as I haul our shit from point A to point B. No movers–just me, Costa and my 14-year-old brother.
Saturday: Cry.
Sunday: Cry and attempt to pull together a face so that I can meet potential artists/collaborators for a project I’m putting together.
Monday: Go to work with a faux cheerful face. Possibly stop in the bathroom and cry on lunch. Which will consist of ham and cheese sandwiches for the next two weeks.
Yep. Living the good life.
