Simmer down now...

Life, I've heard it said, is but a series of ups and downs. And so it goes and so it goes. Blahditty blah. This particular down stems from several things: my slow math skills, a conversation with my parents, and lingering insomnia.

Here's the math problem for you.

I had $340 in my account. I received a paycheck for $700, so now I have $1040. My rent is $825 a month, so soon I'll have $215. Then I pay the regular bills and I'll have about $150. Then I'll have to send the minimum payments of $15 for my two credit cards (to which I owe about $1000 altogether). And I owe H-Bomb $10 for last month's rent, because she kindly gave me a little leeway by paying $10 extra. If you're keeping track, that leaves me with $110.

Okay... That'll get me by, right? That's just fine until the next check comes, right?

The next check will be in the mail around December 2nd. $700.00. I won't get paid again until mid-January.

Trouble.

Okay, so, NONE OF YOU are getting Christmas presents. I love you and everything, but I have to conserve my resources. Let's see... I have rice and glue. I need to eat the rice, so I can't use it for art projects. I have some frozen green beans, too. They're not even mine. They're leftovers from K-Dawg. They'd rot before they got to you, though, so they're not much of a gift. And I should prolly eat them, too.

"JoBiv," you say, "why don't you get a job for the holidays in the retail industry?" Well, I'll need every moment up to my December 13th deadline for these projects, so if they still want me then...

There was also a nannying job for the month of December in Beacon Hill. No, I wouldn't get the holidays off. 55 hours a week. Craploads of money. I think my brothers would officially disown me. My mother would send me migraines telepathically. My father would just cry into his scotch and let my brothers soothe him with reminders of how uppity and useless I've become anyway.

My parents, by the way, have offered to fly me to Rochester for Christmas. I was theees close to telling them to send me the money and let me buy a train ticket and keep the rest. But of course they think this is the nicest thing they could ever do to me... send me to an airport during the holidays. Yeah, your anxiety-ridden daughter will LOVE that. No worries, I still have about 5 panic pills left. I feel a little like I'm in that Zelda game and I have 5 of those heart/lives left before GAME OVER pops up on my screen.

Jesus H fucking shitballs.