I'm a horrible blogger. I know. I hardly write anymore and I promise there's a good reason for that, so let me explain.
Basically, my life is all a mess right this moment. Which would probably be hilarious to blog about but by the time I drive an hour in traffic and get home and make dinner or eat a bag of chips and call it dinner and lay down in a bed that I currently share with my roommate, I just have no desire to fire up my laptop and share things. I just want to veg out with crappy reality TV and sleep. Which is not a very healthy way to live life, but I'm the type of person that needs a little bit of routine and normality, and until that happens in hopefully two weeks, I'm going to continue to be exhausted by everything.
What has me so riled up? Apartment hunting. And please don't ask me "how's it going?" Because if it was going well, I wouldn't toss and turn all night terrified that I'll be homeless in two weeks. And now comes the part where you say "but surely you won't be homeless, you'll find something, you can stay with someone, blah blah." Except not, but thanks for suggesting what was a very obvious idea that I've clearly already ruled out. See, the thing about moving here, ohhhh, 5 weeks ago is that I don't have friends here. Besides the one I live with. Who will be homeless too. I already told my boss not to be concerned if a sleeping bag shows up in my office. It's a good thing he thought I was joking, because that's totally unprofessional. Then again, apparently a previous assistant for my boss once slept on the National Mall for a month until he got his first paycheck, so he may have believed me and just not have been phased by how less-dramatic a sleeping bag in an office is. Whatever. Point is, homelessness is scary.
Not having your own space is exhausting. Wasting time in the morning ironing blouses with a flat-iron because everything of mine is in a suitcase still is tedious. Going to countless apartment showings to get beat out or find out the Craig's List add that claimed it was a "gorgeous one bedroom right off Capitol Hill Metro" really was a dumpy one-bedroom-plus-walk-in-closet off a metro station in the ghetto is frustrating. I am just not a happy camper lately.
My life is just such a joke at the current moment that I can't help but laugh at how I'm really just a pretend grown up. I forgot to do laundry yesterday so I wore the same skirt to work two days in a row. I ate Pop Tarts for breakfast. Did I mention I don't even use an iron to de-wrinkle my clothing? Come on now. I giggled reading an article in "Il Dong" Korean newspaper the other week at work. Pretend grown up.
Every day, I start by telling myself that no matter how much of a mess things may seem right now, I can't let that hinder what I want to accomplish. And then 2pm comes and I've eaten my lunch and I'm chowing down on a bag of BBQ potato chips and my eyes hurt scouring apartment-for-rent-ads and I'm just counting the minutes until I can go to sleep and wake up and hope a new apartment in Dupont circle magically asks me to live in it rent-free. Sigh.
So, that's why I've been sucking lately. I will try to suck less.