Caterwauling

First-world problem: My foundation makeup no longer matches my skin. Because I have become a pasty fuck, hiding out in my room with my laptops and my tarot cards.

Corn-teen blows. In any event …

The more I read about the coronavirus, the more I think we had it here in February.

I missed our February coven meeting because I was feverish. Mom was a lot worse. Like, feeling like she drove through a high-powered car wash on a scooter.

I’m glad I had the sense to self-isolate before, you know, it became mandated. Wish others had the same sense.

We’re better now but pretty jumpy at any weird new symptom. I keep using the word psychosomatic for me. Like when some dumb bitch wearing gloves PUSHES ME out of the way in the return line at Walmart. HELLO that’s not what gloves are meant for … oh hey was that a tickle in my throat?

My coven leader got us involved in the worldwide meditation against coronavirus last night. It started around 10:45 p.m. I was half asleep at the time. (Musta been the wine.)

But her meditations always leave me feeling like I had a four-hour nap. So I bounced till about 6 a.m. Wanted to go see my cats but I am going to isolate today and do some work.

My kitties pretty much walk up to me now and ask for food. I still have to chase Bernie around, but I have a secret spot where I leave his bowl and he runs right to it. I chase Kenya and Kadie too — they usually miss out because they are not bright enough to realize that the lady who fed them yesterday is the same one feeding them today.

It’s a process. Some days I feel victorious. Some, defeated.

It’s clear a lot of my babies were loving, happy housecats who were dumped into the colony.

They meow at me like, hey lady, what flavor is on the menu today? And to hear some of them purr! God I hope they are safe from this virus shit and that purr-onavirus doesn’t become A Thing.

My two favorites, one keeps re-injuring herself and the other has the most ferocious breath on the planet. People probably saw vet bills and dental surgery ahead and said nope, hard pass G. So, I guess that’s why I have so many lovies — they just miss that hoomin interaction.

I don’t blame people for not wanting to see the pets they can’t afford to treat. I got lucky with Maddie and Kadie. They were fine until they weren’t. They both went pretty quickly when we figured out they were sick. Like they wanted to spare me further expense.

I do want to take a couple of these cherubs to a vet. Hopefully it won’t be an arm and a leg. I just want to do some good in the world, even if the only payback is a nose boop or two.

Anyway, I don’t know if our collective (international!) meditation did a lot of good at basically telling coronavirus to contain itself.

But there was a lot of power in it being the fourth day of the fourth month, on the dawn of the fourth full moon of the year.

Four is number of support, stability, boundaries and resources.

I take that to mean, do four good things. Or four more.

I know the Chinese are wary of fours, but four is the Emperor and that means it’s a time to marry energy and action. Also, I’d say eff China for this stupid virus, but you’d also have to talk me out of blaming Russia for it because their timing of picking a fight with Saudi Arabia is awful suspect.

In any event. speaking of marrying energy and action, I learned the hard way not to talk big at my new job because they are like, great, go do it. And I’m like wait, what? Me? Isn’t there an adultier adult to make this decision?

It’s like being a Wallenda and getting halfway across the tightrope over whichever famous chasm they want to cross.

Like, well fuck.

You can go back or forward but you’re on a high wire either way.

And either one could send you hurtling into a pit of molten lava or a vat of rushing rapids.

Existentially, I always go back to, if they weren’t them and I weren’t me, where or who would I be?

Especially now that I know my old safety net was stronger than I ever thought it would be.

I guess the question now is, who will I be?

I don’t believe things happen for a reason. They just happen. Or you make them happen. And wouldn’t you rather pick your direction … and make sure that direction is forward?

Was trying to strike the right tone on a coronavirus article.

So I thought, well, what are people going through in my circle?

* They’ve lost an income or two, their ability to pay April rent, their freedom to go for a walk. Their daily Starbucks. Their social life.

* They’re homeschooling their kids for the first time. My friend said it’s harder to find sidewalk chalk than TP.

* They’re 330,000th in line for a test. Testing started yesterday and we only have 750 a day to administer. By appointment. In the Florida heat.

* Their mom is in a nursing home and they have to stand outside the window to wave at her. They had to deliver a TV for her because she didn’t have one in her room, and she couldn’t even give a thank-you hug.

* You cannot tell me stores aren’t raising prices. I just paid $25 for TP and paper towels. Four rolls of each. From highway robbery to grand larceny in one sneeze.

* You also cannot tell me that the hospital by me with an empty parking lot isn’t filled beyond capacity.

* I know an employee who is terrified of getting fired for bringing in his own PPE. And wondering how to get by if he has to leave for some reason (quitting or worse).

* And don’t even get me started about living one mile downwind from a crematorium when they start shipping bodies (with forklifts, a friend up north was telling me, in his area, because there are so many).

* They can’t get through to the unemployment hotline and it’s not like you can stand in line anymore. So hey investors, jobless claims were pretty good at 3.3 million last week.

* With orders to stay indoors extending into June, everyone’s mental and physical well-being is at stake.

I said we could just run this:

Down to my last roll. Can anyone spare a square?

Fished Bella out of the dumpster/shredder/trash compactor thingy again late last night. Forget coronavirus. For as filthy as I am after these adventures when I get in the car at night, I will be lucky if I don’t invent a new strain called cAronavirus.

*Ba dum bum tss*

I figured out that’s why she has a wound that keeps reopening. But she is super good about sitting still and letting me clean it.

My backseat is looking like a pet hotel/hospital. Not quite what I envisioned when I bought this car.

And I certainly didn’t envision having to forage for supplies. Seriously. Stores get trucks in every day but if you aren’t there during senior hour, you ain’t gettin’ dick.

Sorta jealous of all these folks who are doing not a goddamn thing right now. Like self-isolation is an extended spring break or something.

I’m not trying new recipes or playing all that much online. Not going out so what is left to post about?

I still try to pull a tarot card a day. Got the Sun today and put a piece of citrine out to attract more positive outcomes.

Had a dream this morning after a shit sleep. Saw him in a mullet, my favorite shirt and his stupid sweatshirt, but otherwise he was still him. We had a good moment and went our separate ways.

I wanted to go after him, with him. But I didn’t look back.

So I don’t know if he looked back. He’d be an idiot not to.

It’s nice to be at a place of peace with everything.

Because a traumatic November just wasn’t enough …

The apartment I prayed to be able to keep is going to be the end of me.

Thundercunts Part IV decided to party all night. Usually it sounds like they are riding their suitcases around the hardwood floors. And stomping like they are 5 years old. That’s daily.

But generally they settle down. Generally.

Last night they were drinking and loud-talking and what sounded like letting a horse gallop from room to room. They have a big ugly dog. So he was riled up while they partied.

Finally after “Saturday Night Live” was over, I called security. Thank the baby Jesus, I got the one competent guy. He paid them a visit very quickly.

And … the night got worse.

The good news is they took the party outside for EVERYONE to enjoy their drunken whooping.

The bad news? They turned on every TV in every room to top volume. It’s 10 a.m. Sunday and they are all still blaring.

I’d figured since we don’t have any other loud neighbors, maybe they didn’t realize how thin the walls/floors are. So, courtesy knock, keep it down plz kthanksbai.

Hahahhaahaha nope.

When my job got eliminated and the landlord wanted to sell, I prayed to keep this place. I know it’s not perfect. But it’s on the water, I have covered garage parking and a great space not 50 feet from my front door, and come on who can move without a job.

Today I have my job back (sort of). And a landlord who wants me to get settled before he lists the place.

Moreover, I have regret that I prayed to keep things the same.

I mean, my real prayer was that we’d be fine. We’re fine. Ish. But not happy.

God I’m sick of not ever feeling safe, secure or happy. Or rested. Maybe if I got a good night’s sleep for once in my sad little life, I’d have the energy to make a good decision and do the work necessary to make it happen.

Got screwed for the third time at a favorite restaurant today.

Three visits in a row now, I’ve not been able to eat at the same time as my friend or mom. Always have to send someone’s food back to be redone.

The thing is, the food is always great when it’s fixed. The managers are fantastic, and totally make up for the sucky server and/or cook. Two out of the three visits, I got my meal comped.

The thing is, it’s like any job. If the corporate equivalent of servers and cooks can’t get it right — and the manager ends up doing everything anyway — why do you need “help”?

I’m already at my wits’ end about so many things. Is it so much to expect that when I order grilled salmon, the fucking thing touches some fire at some point and isn’t oozing its innards all over my plate?

Maybe I’m just annoyed because it’s Sunday night and I have work to do that I would like to be done right. Without 75 questions that require more effort than tackling the project itself. Without “well I never did this before” from someone who’s been there exactly a year and a half LONGER than me and I KNOW my/our old boss didn’t do jack shit so SOMEONE had to do it.

And I have a sneaking suspicion I have to cancel next weekend’s plans. Unrelated but equally infuriating. Especially since I’ve spent money I guess I can’t afford anymore to make it happen because my landlord is putting me on the street AT CHRISTMAS.

1. We Floridians can weather a Category 5 storm without even putting down our beers. But come on, people. There are only two working traffic lights on my 26-mile commute. Do you really not know that you’re NOT supposed to slam on the gas when you approach these brand-new four-way stops?

2. Shit for Fucking Brains tRump just landed in Florida. I wonder if Slut for Brains Melania is wearing camo-colored stilettos. Go the fuck away both of you. Wish Mar-a-Lago washed out to sea. It’s fucking hideous. The Merriweather-Posts are probably rolling over in their graves at the sheer gaudiness of it all. And also that fucking TRASH lives there now. #MAGA

3. These uncouth fucks sold Make Attorneys Get Attorneys #MAGA hats to underwater Texans. Maybe they will sell tank tops here since it’s a thousand degrees and eight people have died in a nursing home so far that didn’t have A/C.

4. Speaking of uncouth fucks, the only people I want banished to Siberia as much as those two are my latest batch of upstairs neighbors. Last night it was screaming, stomping, pissing, screaming, pissing WHILE screaming, guitars and more screaming ALL NIGHT LONG. Die. Die. Die. Just DIE. #MAGA

5. And for all those OTHER uncouth fucks who tell me “just move” like the assholes who told me “just evacuate,” please join that crowd at the end of a dock in Cudjoe Key next time a Category 5 hurricane slams into it head-on. You cough up first month’s rent, last month’s rent, full-month deposit and pet fees/rent (Six Grand. I’ll Wait) and we’ll talk.

6. Not sure why I had to come back to work and half the company didn’t. But whatever. I enjoyed being insanely busy. And I realized that even though we’ve let a lot of really good people go, the rest who stayed home did us a favor by staying out of our way. Can we make some trades now?

When you spend a week glued to Jim Cantore & Co … a day and a half staring at the destruction unfolding outside your window … and another half-day-ish with no cable/Internet/electric and delusions that your four fully charged phone banks can somehow power your Keurig because you live in an apartment and can’t buy a generator … you have a lot of time to think.

I mean, I mostly thought about all my snacks. And ATE THEM ALL.

Not pictured: Ice cream and wine. Because, in mah belleh. *burp*

Obviously, that I am even typing this means we made it through. At some point I gave up on being annoyed at everybody and their “Sending prayers!” And in fact, when a friend said she fucking hated even writing those stupid words, but felt so helpless having nothing else to offer, I said it was welcome. That it’s not like any of us have our wits about us right now to pray for our safety. Thank you for doing it for me.

I don’t want to say their prayers worked. (But that won’t stop me from thinking it.)

But we got off pretty easy compared to Cudjoe Key (Category 4 impact), Key Largo, Islamorada, Marco Island (Category 3 impact) and the Naples/Fort Myers area. I won’t take that for granted.

I think prayers helped. And I know we got a big assist from Cuba, the Virgin Islands, Barbuda and everyone else who got nailed before us. The destruction outside the U.S., and/or in the U.S. territories (which half the nation seems to forget), helped to curb Hurricane Irma’s impact in a big way.

The storm was called historic because we’d never had two Category 4 storms make landfall in the same year. (Harvey was the other.)

Hurricane Jose also helped us — it pushed Irma westward, and dry winds to the west also helped to tame Irma a bit.

But anyone who wants to keep denying climate change and saying it’s a liberal Chinese hoax can suck my big fat furry cat nuts. The air was hundred-plus-degree soup and the water was even hotter.

This was the first time I breathed yesterday, as the storm moved just north of me … and kept moving:

So yeah, I’m ready to rage on our idiot president again, now that I’m out of danger. (What do you call a flock of assholes? A Trump rally.)

That and that he mumbled through two moments of silence in honor of 9/11 today does not shock me.

And I will maintain till the end of time that 11/9 was a more-devastating day in our country’s history than 9/11.

In any event, it appears Jax is underwater (again — they got the hit from Matthew last year) and Pensacola is a hot, wet mess. Funny how those areas were set to be spared and WE were supposed to meet a watery end right where I am.

That’s one more message (missive) I want to send, If you have something to say, go ahead and send a prayer.

Don’t fucking put me down for my choice of where to evacuate to (or not evacuate at all).

Cribbed from Faceypages:

PLEASE TAKE A LITTLE TIME TO READ THIS….?
Dear Non-Floridians,

Rules when discussing the hurricane with Floridians need to be put in place….

1) Calling people who don’t evacuate “idiots” or saying “they deserve what happens to them” is a judgement statement that without facts, you are not qualified to make.

2) Just go get a plane ticket! (You can’t just fly out.) Don’t make statements or give advice on how we should evacuate. You don’t have the slightest knowledge of what we are up against. There are challenges to leaving. Flights out are being changed, cancelled, delayed. Tickets are $2-3,000 higher than they normally are and that’s one way.

3) Don’t say “Get in your car and drive fast out” A) Gas stations are getting fuel still, but that fuel is gone before the lines are empty.
B. ) There is no driving fast. Cars are moving 5-7 mph on highways trying to get to safety. The lines are long and imagine, with a gas shortage, being stuck on highways in jams for 12-15 hours.

4) Florida has one way out, and that is through the top (Northern) part of the state. There are basically 2 major roads out. Those roads are jammed, backed up, and not expected to change.

5) To post “Florida is about to be wiped off the map” because you are watching the news reports and panicking from 3,000 miles away- is not the most uplifting thing for us to see. Plus, don’t speak your devastation to us. Be positive!

6) “If I lived in Florida, I would have evacuated a week ago.” Well I’m not so sure that you would have. It’s not that simple if you have a heart…not only that, you don’t know until the final days which path the storm is going to take. Homes have to be boarded up. Things have to be done to ensure that if you do leave, you have somewhere to return.

7) Stop saying God is angry and that’s why Texas went through what Texas went through and that Florida is being hit. God isn’t angry. Every person in the path of destruction was created in His image. Every person not in the path of destruction was created in His image. He is not angry. He is not judging us. He is not putting His wrath down. If you believe that, we don’t serve the same God.

8.) “Go to a safer part of the state.” Yes, we thought of that. No one knows exactly what part that is. If Irma takes a turn it could hit the west coast- if we are all fleeing to the west coast because it says the east coast is the most dangerous, then that could be costly. We know what we need to do and we are monitoring the situation.

Feel Free to pray for us!

Feel Free to check on us, text us, call us. But, don’t text your fears of our demise. Don’t call us crying because you are scared for us.

We have a storm to conquer and we need to be healthy, mentally and physically.

When your son or daughter or friend gets ready to go play in a competitive sport … before the game, do you call them and say ….
“you are going to lose”
“don’t show up for the game”
“The odds are against you”

I would hope not… well we are preparing to overcome this storm. Send us some prayers and encouragement! We welcome it! If you are going to do anything less than that, turn your TV or radio off and keep your mouth shut!

God bless all, stay safe, love and help your neighbors.

If I had time/money, I would have taken up my friends’ offers for North Carolina, Baltimore and D.C. If I could have gotten a flight or a hotel or GAS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, there were many possibilities. If I didn’t fear NOT being able to return home (there are downed power lines everywhere and roads blocked by trees and roads that are totally underwater), money wouldn’t even have been a factor.

Not many people were stupid enough to snark to me. They did however tell my mom that I was dumb deciding to go back home.

But if there’s something I know about hurricanes, it’s that they change their mind a thousand times before landfall. And even then, they can pivot.

I asked my guides and the stars what to do. At first my gut said “Orlando. You have to be in Orlando.” Then when I got home I felt like, “OMG, this was the best decision I could make.” And that was before the weather proved me RIGHT.

Speaking of consulting one’s gut on all sorts of things, that’s a blog entry I want to tackle next. Stay tuned …

The cunt formerly known as Hurricane Irma — who is also bringing tornadoes, flooding and crazy-ass winds — is almost here.

Key West? Wiped out. Naples/Fort Myers/Tampa? Next up.

Speaking of wipeouts, check out this joker taking a selfie at Southernmost Point.

Link: https://qz.com/1073601/webcam-watch-people-take-selfies-as-theyre-engulfed-by-hurricane-irma-in-key-west/

Meanwhile, a disaster (Rick Scott) called up a disaster (that Trump dude) to declare Florida a disaster area. Sounds about right.

Here in PBC, the winds are now 55 mph. My lone screen (bedroom) is about to fly into the great unknown. The “hurricane glass” in the living room is leaking from the rains. Irma hit Key West as a Category 4 and even though PBC is out of the “cone of destruction,” I am not hopeful that this apartment will stay dry-ish. Nor my storage unit with my entire life’s history (and writings) in cardboard boxes. Or that they will even be there now with tornadoes ripping through the southeast portion of the county.

I do have a bug-out bag, though. Filled with pink tank tops from my favorite underwater towns, a pink phone charger and Pink! (Rinaldi) wine. Because, this Florida girl color-coordinates her shit, even when she is LOSING her shit.

The cat is nuts. The bathtub in this 11-year-old apartment does not hold water. My bathroom, previously designated as the “safe room,” sounds like an airplane hangar because of the winds hitting the concrete. (Did you know a Category 2 storm can snap concrete in half? I didn’t. TILL NOW.)

I’ve eaten two pints of Halo Tops (chocolate and chocolate-banana. Mmmmm). And we have some good loot from Disney. (OMG churro popcorn holy shit get me back there nooowwwwww.)

Not sure what else to say about this storm. Here is a loose collection of thoughts.

• Miami forced homeless into shelters against their will.
• Everywhere else turned away anyone without proof of address.
• A prison on Stock Island is now Noah’s Ark. Wildlife of all sizes have a place to ride out this historic storm.
• Prisoners all over the state got transferred to higher ground. But my police department and most others said don’t call them if you are in danger and couldn’t evacuate (due to lack of money and/or lack of anyplace to go).
• The cone shifted west thanks to Category-4 Jose to our east. PBC is fucking lucky.
• Special thanks to Chris & Mandy in Jersey, Kelly & Sarah in NC and Laura in Baltimore for begging me to bring mom and Kadie to safety. And to my dear Trevor who, from New Orleans, got me an offer in Asheville. I am overwhelmed by their kindness. And if it weren’t such a clusterfuck to find gas, I might have chanced taking Stewie out of state.
• The Turnpike and stations just off 95 got gas regularly, though. I heard the 7-11 at my 95 exit got shipments every morning at 7 am through yesterday. I fueled up there, ran some errands (sans A/C) and parked Stewie’s butt for the duration.
• Tornadoes right now heading for Boca/Rey, as I call it. Or as I also call it, home. PSL got them last night, as did Laudy. Ft. Pierce is flooded. Construction cranes fell down in Miami. (Read: crashed into a high-rise. Because it takes two weeks to take down a crane and they “only” had one week to prepare.) We (PBC) ain’t seen nothing yet.

I think that’s all for now. Gotta keep things charged up. Maybe grab a nap. At least I can barely hear the fuckheads upstairs with the current 55 mph winds.

See you on the flipside. Here’s to hoping there is one …

I’m wondering whether my life has been reduced to a Huey Lewis and the News song lyric.

Hurricane Irma was supposed to be a Category 3 hurricane by the time it came to my hood. Then it was 5. Then 4. Now it’s back up to 5.

God doesn’t like Mar-a-Lago. Or any other Trump properties, judging by the locations this storm has hit. But why take us good-hearted Hillary voters out with his gaudy decor that the government will probably pay to restore?

Maybe he’ll come out and sell his shitty $40 hats like he did to Hurricane Harvey victims …

I don’t feel like we’ll be all right. That’s probably from Mom the Psychic saying “we’re done for” every hour.

We had a great week in Orlando. I drove us back a day early (last night) though. The hotel couldn’t extend our stay. And every other hotel that had rooms faced water slides and volcanoes and other bizarre shit. Besides, yesterday Irma was projected to whack Orlando directly.

In any event, I was just about the only car driving south as the whole state heads north to Georgia and the Carolinas and beyond. So I’m either the smart one or the dumb one. Not real sure at this point.

We have a curfew starting at 3 p.m. tomorrow in my county. Wal-Mart closed at noon today. (I was there before 7 a.m.) Publix closed at noon, as did my storage unit place. (Whose general manager’s name, I learned today, is Irma.)

There’s only gas to be found on the turnpike and the stations just off 95. You’re shit out of luck if you try anyplace else.

Got some pizza at my favorite joint tonight and a cheeseburger from McDonald’s for the cat.

It’s 7:30 p.m. now and it’s already a ghost town. Pretty sure Target is the last game in town, although the cashier at Mickey D’s said they will be open till curfew time tomorrow.

I have to say I’m impressed that just about everything else is closed. I did my preparing in Orlando. (As much as I could do without being able to buy plywood, metal shutters or a generator. Or ice. Gah my ice maker is broken and damn landlord won’t pay to fix it.)

Got a boatload of cat litter and all her favorite foods. Don’t have much hoomin food beyond lentil chips, chocolate animal crackers, wine and tea.

And the HOA has zero fucks to give about it all …

It’s Friday night and we expect this shit to hit Sunday morning through Monday at midnight. On the early side. FPL already warned us we WILL be without power, for perhaps weeks.

I worry because I’m on a middle floor. And also parked on the middle floor in our garage.

* Good: No flooding from the lake and bordering canal below. And not the top floor so no worries about my roof blowing off.

* Bad: It rains sideways in Florida. And 180 mph winds hitting a building that was constructed AFTER the last major hurricane to blow through. So, untested. And not sure the car won’t blow away or that I won’t get impaled with idiot neighbors’ unsecured furniture.

Anyway. More bad than good and I’m not done yet.

There aren’t a lot of positive scenarios in my mind out of this. I love my mom and kitty but I get stir-crazy. Also I see work piling up in my inbox (but I’m on vacation, as if THAT were a thing) and it’s making me nuts. I did try to secure my storage unit but I didn’t do a good job in the hour I had because I didn’t know it was closing. (Also, it’s 100 degrees here and there’s no a/c in that thing. Much like the state of my apartment come Sunday afternoon, no doubt.)

What if mom is right and we ARE done for? Have I done enough? Had enough fun? Seen enough of this world? I honestly would not have come back but she insisted we needed her “PAPERS.” If I’m going to die for that, I’ll cry.

She said we aren’t fighters. If this is the end, we won’t make it, she says. And I think I’ve had just enough togetherness (and working for a living. Hell, i finally got promoted. I can die happy, right?) to open the sliding glass door at peak wind velocity and throw myself into the overflowing swamp-cancer lake.

I always say an open door is an invitation. If this is it, indeed … why fight it?

Caught my immediate ex-boss looking at my ProfeshunalSite profile on Friday.

I purposely did not update my profile with my new title (his old one) yet.

I wanted him to change his first. (He did on Friday.) Nothing worse than leaving a place NOT on your own terms. Well, other than having your replacement break the news that it happened at all.

I mentioned it to Mom and she reminded me how we never told anyone when we lived at the ocean for seven years. Like we didn’t want anyone to be jealous of how lucky we were.

I thought about that for a good, long time. She’s right. I never said that I lived a block away from Pumpkinfuhrer.

I mean, his gaudy beach house cost bajillions and I was in a rented condo with a series of six Evil Landladies and a maintenance guy who was in jail for stealing people’s shit (and a Mercedes, in the end).

But still, now when I say to people “Oh yeah, Nazi-sympathizing Dipshit and I were neighbors,” they don’t actually believe me. Which is fine. Honestly, I didn’t want them to come visit or want to stay with me anyway.

But I see what she means. I told my old friend W. that I got a promotion. And my BFF knew. But no one else outside the company (other than Mom, natch) knows about it.

It’s an interesting experiment, to see how long it takes for the news to spread. But I trust the three in-the-know to NOT spread it.

And it’s weird to see the dynamic within the company. Other than the people who made it a point to congratulate me, it’s been eerily silent.

I moved into my new office Friday afternoon. Maybe that will make it official. (It’s a pretty sweet office, too.)

But now I’m starting to wonder whether I’m worthy. I mean, they told me specifically to not work my 70-hour weeks that got me here. “Don’t burn out on us,” I was told. But … now that I finally have the title and pay I was striving for … I don’t want to check out like all my predecessors. (Yes, ALL of them.)

I actually WANT to work and do good things, better things … to BE better.

BUT … I gots a sick mom and kitty and I really DON’T want to burn the hell out again. I was crispy before my department imploded over Easter weekend. And I can tell you right now, all the bonus steps and personalities and authorities have sandpaper potential on my psyche.

Note I said potential. I can handle it. I can handle anything. But I worry. And maybe that’s why I haven’t told too many folks about how things are actually going in my favor.

I do honestly believe the universe wants me to be happy. But I do always have my eye out for that meteor coming my way. Like, what’s it gonna take away since it just gave me something?

In any event, I really don’t think I have to work too much harder — it sounded like the promotion was to catch me up to where I’ve been functioning anyway. I mean, I came in and took over … and the previous guy faded away. But you know me. I want to be better.

Lord, please help me be better, without sacrificing the free time I’ve worked so very hard to earn. Because that’s been better than any bump in pay. (Especially since I still can’t afford to move, and that’s what I want more than anything in this world.)

Can I really have it all? Does it really just take believing it to make it so?

Have I actually, honestly, really and truly suffered enough?