I've had a rough year.
To start with, my boyfriend of almost six years and I are no longer going to be living together in October. Or together at all. This is not what I expected, not at all. I expected a tea-length, champagne, vintage lace dress and royal blue Chuck Taylors. Plans change, I guess. Go ahead, make those plans. Watch life throw a wrench in them so big, the fucking wrench is surprised by its own prowess.
Finding this new house has been difficult. My landlords are also going through a relationship breakdown, and I'm required to move from my beloved little purple house. I really got lucky with this one, guys. Where else am I going to find a two bedroom with laundry, fenced back yard, and central air for less than an arm and leg? No where, that's where. I got spoiled.
If I wanted to pay out my ass for a place to live, I'd buy a damn house. This one, actually. But I'm not really in the place to make that huge ass step. I'm still not so sure I want to be responsible for a building that I own and care for. I mean, I KIND OF do that now. But not really. When the lawn mower broke, the landlord bought a new one. I can decorate the shit out of a house, but upkeep really baffles me. Look, my typical Millennial self is showing.
Finding a decent apartment is hard with two dogs. Finding an affordable house to live on my own is probably the most difficult house-hunt you'll have. I actually reached out to the owners of that house I linked, to ask if they would be willing to lease it. Alas, they said no. Who the fuck wouldn't want me to pay their mortgage for them?? I'm an excellent tenant.
There are SO MANY income restricted apartments in my target area (Downtown-ish, as mentioned in this post and again in this post. ). I called one today, and was made aware that I make exactly $40 a year too much to live there. I called another today that informed me that she was not comfortable with two dogs. One, yes. Why, she had a Golden Retriever in there. Two, no. My two Bostons don't equal HALF of a Golden Re-fucking-triever.
I'm also losing my car. The boyfriend is taking it. ( It's going to be really fucking hard to start saying "ex".) So, I have to do that soon. Or get used to taking a bus to the grocery store. I would be totally okay with riding a bike to work. From April to October, that is.
I also didn't get a job that I'm more than qualified and would kick fucking ass at. Frankly, I'm not at all a people person. I'd rather sit my quiet little corner and work on my own. Taking phone calls all day gives me horrid anxiety. I've lost so much sleep and gained the increasingly worst migraines of my life. I was really banking on getting this job. Like I said before, make plans and watch life take shits all over them like a murder of crows. I was told that my interview was great, but the job was "competitive". I was crushed. I am still crushed. I actually cried at work. I. Cried. At work. Totally ruined my flawless eye make-up.
So, with all this, I decided yesterday to take Sir Steve Martin's sage advice: Be so good, they can't ignore you. I'm going to put on my big girl pants, and keep on fucking trucking. Because I will not let anyone hold me down. I don't need a knight in shining armor. I'm fucking amazing. Even though my life is a little shitty right now.
Ah, this wasn't funny. Sorry for depressing the shit out of you.
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