The Snarl

espresso-cups-3-1327632-639x652The jarl of snarl..

So, fuck.

I suppose I can throw some words down here.  Got a call from the bank today, another paycheck returned, went so far as to complain ever so slightly to the boss.  Well, the actual sequence of events was my mother calling me when I was in a bit of a fugue dreamstate, which I ignored because I didn’t have to be into work until 12:30p.m, then, she called my sister and made her get up and I call back immediately because the last time we had mother-urgent phone calls, it was all about the cancer stuff and so I call and my first words are this desperate ARE YOU OKAY?  and she’s like, I’m fine, but listen, you have to call your bank about a check, because they called her about it because the bank has her number on my account from 9000 years ago when we set them up.  All of which ended up being to tell me that I had a 7.00 payment returned which costs 36 bucks and they were kind enough to say that it was because my paycheck was returned and that also costs 15 bucks.  So.  Fucked up. My life for the past year.

And as part of that conversation, my mother starts talking about me coming over there to get money because everything’s good for them right now and she’s fine and they don’t even know what to do with all of this money they have (which is so not true) and I freeze up like a deer in the headlights and sort of start crying on the phone and leaving my head because I was mad and I couldn’t be mad at my boss (because that person is not in my family and I might get yelled back at) and I couldn’t be mad at them for trying to be nice to me even if my brain was doing all sorts of weird tricks, spinning and diving and flying about with how goddamned ruined my life is and how I’d be taking away money they could use to go on a trip and I need to get myself in order but I can’t because I’m probably dying and it doesn’t even matter and jesus fucking christ and my mother’s saying we can’t have you living paycheck to paycheck and she has no idea, NO idea.

The sound of her voice when she’s waiting for me to sound cheerful and okay and I am realizing I can’t, I can’t even keep talking, is tremendously awful.

But, I go to the other job, get the other pay, should get something more tomorrow.  Am completely fucking done about the whole thing. Have 10 bucks in my pocket.  Had more completely fine, completely irrational driving choices.  Feel the sore throat for real, real this time. Sat in a plate of ranch dress. Threw soup down the toilet.  Went outside in the snow with wet hair.  Did not refuse Disneyland fudge.  Made some real questionable moral choices I don’t regret. Wrote this post.

 

Thank you and good night.

 

 

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