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surfacing, sort of
Dropped the condo price and had another open house yesterday. Two people came by. It only takes one but I am not at all optimistic.
At this point I don't know what to do.
I mean, obviously "get a job regardless of pay etc" but it's reasonable to assume that won't cover the cost of continuing to live here (rough back-of-envelope math suggests bare minimum is $50k / $25/hr). Hope, as I have been reminded repeatedly over the last year-plus, is not a plan.
So I can either live on credit card debt, which might buy me another couple of months depending on the job, or attempt to rent this place out and couch-surf. Ex-roomie Mya has offered her spare bedroom indefinitely. I am pretty sure I can fit just about everything in the storage unit if I disassemble the bookcases. I do not think I can cover all expenses with rental income but it's much easier to make up a $1000/mo shortfall than $3000/mo.
Mya quite reasonably does not want to live with a cranky bitey cat, so Mr Tuppert will have to go live with Steph. Unless that turns out to be nonworkable (there are any number of reasons why that might be the case), in which case I guess I surrender him. I am not easily able to express just how much of a failure that in particular feels like. The last three and a half years I've prided myself on giving him the kind of stable and caring home that I felt a keen absence of. It's one thing to screw up my own life but to do so for a creature who trusts me and who I'm responsible for... ugh.
We've had a lot of good lap time this past week. Well, "lap." Mr Tuppert does not Do laps. He'll flop over my ankle or curl up next to my shin, though, and will ask for scritches before catnapping. He missed me while I was gone. It's mutual.
Currently reading Murderbot, specifically Network Effect and System Collapse. A new one is out last week or this, and I preordered it as a last hurrah before I left. Still haven't gotten into Cameron Reed's new book. Maybe next.
This week: start looking for A Job Any Job; look into rental prospects; compact the stuff in the storage unit. Continue looking for A Real Job, continue practising and going to sessions, pet cat, feed self.
None of it was supposed to be like this.
Oh well.
"The release of all thought of an alternative to the present moment."
(I am not currently a danger to myself or others.)
At this point I don't know what to do.
I mean, obviously "get a job regardless of pay etc" but it's reasonable to assume that won't cover the cost of continuing to live here (rough back-of-envelope math suggests bare minimum is $50k / $25/hr). Hope, as I have been reminded repeatedly over the last year-plus, is not a plan.
So I can either live on credit card debt, which might buy me another couple of months depending on the job, or attempt to rent this place out and couch-surf. Ex-roomie Mya has offered her spare bedroom indefinitely. I am pretty sure I can fit just about everything in the storage unit if I disassemble the bookcases. I do not think I can cover all expenses with rental income but it's much easier to make up a $1000/mo shortfall than $3000/mo.
Mya quite reasonably does not want to live with a cranky bitey cat, so Mr Tuppert will have to go live with Steph. Unless that turns out to be nonworkable (there are any number of reasons why that might be the case), in which case I guess I surrender him. I am not easily able to express just how much of a failure that in particular feels like. The last three and a half years I've prided myself on giving him the kind of stable and caring home that I felt a keen absence of. It's one thing to screw up my own life but to do so for a creature who trusts me and who I'm responsible for... ugh.
We've had a lot of good lap time this past week. Well, "lap." Mr Tuppert does not Do laps. He'll flop over my ankle or curl up next to my shin, though, and will ask for scritches before catnapping. He missed me while I was gone. It's mutual.
Currently reading Murderbot, specifically Network Effect and System Collapse. A new one is out last week or this, and I preordered it as a last hurrah before I left. Still haven't gotten into Cameron Reed's new book. Maybe next.
This week: start looking for A Job Any Job; look into rental prospects; compact the stuff in the storage unit. Continue looking for A Real Job, continue practising and going to sessions, pet cat, feed self.
None of it was supposed to be like this.
Oh well.
"The release of all thought of an alternative to the present moment."
(I am not currently a danger to myself or others.)
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