08/07/2013

So M had to pull a bunch of stuff out of his suitcase when it was too heavy at the airport, plus he left a bunch of stuff behind.  He asked me to ship it to him asap.  Today was pay day, so last night I packed a huge box of stuff and sent it out today.  It cost $280, but we knew it would.  M has the shits now because it only leaves $300 available for him to withdraw this week.  I understand that.  He didn’t have a great deal of cash to take with him, he had to buy groceries, dog food, toiletries, gas money and dinner for Tyler to make up for the airport run.  Plus he needs to pay his share of the monthly rent and bills, AND have some money left to buy pants for a job interview, and cash to get transport to and from interviews, and to organise a phone.  $800-odd doesn’t last that long when you have a bunch of necessary purchases.  I fucking get that.  I am just irritated because, as usual, I thought I was doing what he asked me to and no, I apparently got that wrong.  It’s impossible to please someone like that.  I don’t know why I bother trying … Oh I guess because I’m the idiot who loves him.

Anyway.  So that was a bit of a dampener, particularly given I had a really shitty time packing his clothes into space bags, trying to pack as much as I could in there, taping the shit out of the box, putting it on a shitty little hand cart to get it out to the car (which means dragging it across the gravel from where we are, up past the house on the front of the block, then down the driveway – NOT FUN).  Driving to the post office in my lunch break, wheeling the shit into the post office, the interrogation from the post office worker as to the contents and why I am shipping it…. Fuck, I feel fucking shitty enough packing up his possessions and sending them off, knowing that he’s not here, he’s not coming back, and these are his things that are left here to remind me of him and now I have to send them away, too. 

I’m just so fucking fragile. 

So anyway, I explained to him that I am trying to do my best here, I am left with about $120 to my name for the week, which isn’t a great deal.  The car needs fuel in it and I need to be fed.  But I can make it work.  I feel like he doesn’t realise that I am also worried about money, I don’t have much of it either, and I am racked with guilt that I haven’t got any money to give to my mother this week.  

I feel like I am making a bigger deal about this than it should be.  It just needed some explanation, I guess.  It’s not that big a deal.  I just feel shitty about it and needed to blow off some steam. 

So I am sick again.  Possibly tonsillitis, not sure, but it sure feels like it.  I need to try and get in to see the doctor, but that’s money I don’t have, medication I am too scared to pay for because I will be broke.  I can’t take any more time off work, though, I feel like I have barely been there for over a month.  

Whatever.

So, I am an idiot and just applied for a bar job at a club not far from my work.  The one I go to for my exams, actually.  I would love to get the job, if only to make myself feel better about money.  I don’t care about sharing my wage with M, and making the finances work, this is what I signed up for.  I would just feel a lot more relaxed if I had just a little bit more money, I would also be away from this empty bedroom more often, and shit if I wouldn’t lose more weight. 

I don’t know.  Getting the job will be ridiculous, but I think I need a little bit of ridiculous right now to keep me busy and help me cope.  It was the only job I found tonight that I wanted to apply for, and I feel like a dick applying for it knowing that I will be leaving in October, but fug diz shit.  No one stays in those jobs very long except old ladies in unhappy marriages.  And I only say that because at least 3 of the old ladies I worked with at Wests and who were miserable in their marriages have come through my office for divorce and settlement proceedings.