I have been entryless for a while because I'm on a kick where I'm a hermit and don't want to talk to anyone or communicate or be in the world. TV and computers and phones currently hold no appeal for me. I'm also in the process of trying to get out of my parents house. No, I haven't saved a dime but if I waited till I actually had money, well, I'd be here until the day I died. I don't save. It's not that I don't save well or that I fall off the wagon every once in a while. No. I don't save. It just doesn't happen. Usually what happens is that on Sunday night, when I'm trying to fall asleep, I decide that I'm going to take tuna sandwiches for lunch for the whole week and not buy any junk food or go out for any meals and not drink any beer all week for the good of my pocketbook, my body, and my general smug moral superiority...and I usually also throw in a "And I'll try to exercise too" for good measure. Then Monday morning actually happens and before I know it, I've scarfed down about 15 mini candy bars from the candy jar by my desk, and I want a burrito by about 10:30. And then, during lunch, I go online and buy t-shirts and DVDs and CDs that I just haveto have or I'll die. I bought Ray Charles' duet CD two weeks ago because I heard it online and neededit. It's still in it's plastic wrapper in my bedroom. Yeah. I'm that girl. So. I'm probably going to have to get a cash advance on my credit card (which I never do and had to get a new pin which may or may not come in the mail before I have to write a check) to pay for my first month's rent and security deposit. If this apartment comes through. Which it very well may not. And (stay with me now) I will have to use part of the cash advance to pay that credit card's bill this month. This is the perfect month to do it, by the way. I still have to buy like 10 Christmas and birthday gifts because half of my family was born at the end of December and the beginning of January. Bastards. Plus, I have to have body work done on my car because it's made out of plastic and even though I lightly tapped a curb, the passenger side of my car looks like someone hit it with a hammer. So, I got that going for me. I'm just going through a phase where I really don't like people? Which is generally okay, especially if it's lighting a fire under my ass to get out from under my father's roof. They're fine most of the time, but when they are not, I'm just totally hit over the head with why everyone eventually moves out. I mean, I'm thirty now, right? Woo-hoo birthday (followed quickly by a horrible bout of strep throat, my first; welcome to 30!). And my father still feels the need to say "You're getting up at the regular time tomorrow, right?" In this faux-concerned, totally judgmental voice whenever I express a desire to stay up past 10pm. I'm 30! I can stay up as late as I want! And even I was in the habit of not getting up on time or being late to work or calling in sick because I wanted to sleep late (none of which I have ever done. Ever.), it still would be NONE OF HIS FUCKING BUSINESS when I went to sleep. None. NONE! Plus, it will be so nice to not have to worry about fucking up the shower schedule if I DID decide to sleep in one day. Not that he ever worries about that. Okay, enough. I'm leaving and I won't have to worry about it anymore. I won't have a bed, but I'll have my own shower!
