There she went again with her writing lull, sigh my
faithful readers. It’s true. I have sucked at keeping up lately, but remember,
I’m homeless soon!
I’m so busy and moving and stuff-doing that I forgot to RSVP
to a wedding. WHAT A JERK! I even forgot to pay my credit card on time; for the
first time in a decade. And even though my record is fairly spotless aside from
these last few months of: 1. an auto-pay malfunctioning and causing a late
payment and 2. Life making me a day late for another payment, they don’t care.
Credit Bureau are like car insurance companies: your past forever can be
spotless, but the moment you get a ticket, BAM! You’re down 50 credit score
points and up $50 a month on your insurance premium.
So I guess I’m driving cross country in my same ol’ car. Which
is fine by me (I love her), but for the first time ever, her oil change is late. (I'm sorry, BBT!) And even later when I had to push around this week to take care of a baby raccoon we found in the basement. (More on that later.) But there just never seems to be enough time to do stuff. And also relax. (I have no idea how people have kids. The raccoon was nearly needy enough.) In the midst of all of this, I still took five hours out of last Saturday to sit outside in the newly beautiful weather and read. (Dude! Everybody was banging everybody in the 60's!) And then go on a four hour hike Sunday. Relaxation is just as much on
my checklist as anything else. I still have lots to do, but ‘nothing’ is also
on that list.All this in addition to my gift for procrastination. Even still, this moment feels different. In the past when I had to move, I would begin to panic months in advance. I'd need an answer and I'd need it yesterday. But I'm homeless in 28 days and choosing to hike three miles instead.
I did decide on a new plan: stay in DC until the end of summer to save up money so I can travel across country and look for a job with a little financial safety net instead of, oh, $6 dollars and an 80 points lower credit score. However, the room I hope to sublet – at my cousin’s house down the street – has a girl in it who – just from the looks of the room – is a total fucking disaster and unlikely to be reasonable or actually follow through on anything she says, like, oh say: “I’m moving out and not paying any more rent”. (Did I mention she teaches 4th graders?) And, oddly, unlike myself in previous lease-end times in my 20s, I’m not panicked - yet - even though the moves I'm making now are much larger.
I know have heard that as you get older, you’re supposed to have your
shit together more. I shouldn't be considering that if I fold down my back seat of
my compact sedan, if sleeping in the trunk would be comfortable and plausible. I
shouldn’t have the desire to get rid of everything and hope all of my stuff can
fit in three Tupperware bins and a suitcase. I should be wiser than to think
that everything is just going to work out; move forward with the little knowledge I have (pack; get ready to leave) and have faith in the total unknown (where will
I live; what will I do). These should be the musings of a 20 year old, not a 30
year old.
But, here I am; totally busy and barely fazed by the
complete unknown in front of me. Maybe I just don’t have to time panic. Or perhaps
it’s denial. I’m shooting for more of a blind faith and the calm of maturity. All stress is good for is wrinkles, acne and heart attacks anyway. Twenty-eight days...
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