I have never been a borrower. I think I would rather be a beggar or a stealer if I had to choose, but even of those, I would probably resort to stealing if I could somehow circumvent my conscience. But since I can't, I am forced to beg. It seems absurd that I should feel the churning emotions that I feel when I am begging money from family members, and especially when I am pleading with the father of my children, ever so nicely, to pay back some of the thousands of dollars he is behind in his child support. Of all of my bleak moments, and there have been many, and they have been very bleak, this may in fact be my bleakest. My head hurts from frantically trying to squeeze every cent of possibility out of any source to reconcile the ever widening abyss of debt that is swallowing me alive. I have not paid my new roommate rent yet. I am not confident the payment for my storage unit didn't get returned from the bank. I haven't paid the insurance on the car that has a payment due in two days, and my bank account is $50 overdrawn. I don't have money for groceries, definitely not for beer, although I know that many of my dear fans are counting the beers I have had in the last months and adding them up to an insurance bill. Oh how I wish I could regurgitate. But then I remember that Joe (sarah) paid for 90% of the beer I drank before the move. What an angel and a friend she was. Is. I don't remember ever feeling so completely desperate, but, at the same time, a sense that somehow it will work out. I have no idea how. I really am, this time, on the brink of some major repercussions. repossession, homelessness, starvation. I mean already the alcohol withdrawals I am having are devastating. (KIDDING!!!) But see, I can still afford a sense of humor. I will sell my jeans. I can do that. I can always buy more jeans when I am rich. Next stop, eBay. Oh shit, they won't let me list cause my last seller fee got returned unpaid. crap. Plan F. More begging. A good face-to-face sit down with Ricker. "Ricker, I know I am living in your house, but I don't have any money." Ricker: "Just a little?" Me: "No, none." Ricker: "Would you like a beer?" me: "yes." Apparently I am not too broke to fantasize either.
tonight I got home from work and saved a rabbit. It was a grey lop eared rabbit sitting next to the tire of a big lifted up ford out on the street. I packed it around like a baby until Ricker pointed out the rabbit's appropriate abode, and I took it home, thinking to myself that at least I wasn't too poor to save a life. Truck really wanted to eat the rabbit. Or at least sniff it.
I really am not entirely certain I will be able to claw my way out of this one, folks. My brother is kindly loaning me enough to un-bounce my bank account. My parents cautiously and wisely capped off their $1600 loan to me with the last two hundred and a reasonable demand for a repayment plan. The first $1400 is still from my move to Northport. Another good reason to never, ever move again.
My head hurts from problem solving. Saving bunnies and resolving national issues. I had to improvise a system for the other arch techs at work today for researching our project area. I did it. I am good at the things I do. My boss wasn't even there to notice how good I am. But I got a job started that the other techs were staring at incredulously. Fake it 'til you make it. That's how I roll. Apparently it doesn't pay well.
What I'd give for a beer. "ricker?..."
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