The Sad State of the Steffs Report

Today is brought to me in part by the letter A for “Anxiety” and the letter O for “Oy!”

Oh, where to begin. Well, I took the last half of last week off in the hopes of healing Ze Gimpy Back some more… even though it meant opening a short-term disability claim that I won’t see a dime of until the end of the year and makes it highly questionable I’ll both be able to pay rent AND buy food for the next three weeks. But if you can’t work, you can’t work.

My website is still in limbo, hanging there in cyberspace, and it turns out somehow the server co got the memo that I wanted to CANCEL “smutandsteff.com”, so now there’s another kerfuffle to iron out before all this is resolved.

My back, unfortunately, is still wonky, mildly better than it was, but we’ll see what a week of sitting on it does. I’m returning to work tomorrow not because I’m ready for it, but because finances dictate that I must, whether short-term disability will eventually come my way or not. I can’t wait until Christmas for money; rent is due in less than a week.

I’m hoping I can medicate my way through the week– with the few pills I have remaining considering as I’ve no clue if I can pay rent let alone stock up on much-needed pain-relief — so I can at least get enough of a paycheck next Monday to get me most of the way through rent.

I’ve got to swallow my pride tomorrow and contact my landlord to see if a creative rental payment can be worked out where I can submit half mid-month. As they’re a big, heartless company back east, I’m not optimistic, but if anyone can convince them it’s me.

Tuesday I have to beg the bank for a loan. I suspect half the reason my back’s taking so long to heal is that I have a piece-of-shit couch and bed that’s fucking me daily by not giving me any support, hence I’m falling asleep on the floor most nights, which isn’t exactly making me a rested happy camper.

I have a scooter whose new muffler is so precariously mounted, thanks to the really shitty design of the motor’s bottom end, that it’s already been ripped off once by a bump in the road and replaced, but needs to survive the week so I can at least get to and from work enough to a) be present in the “yes, she works here” and b) live to see a paycheque that makes the difference between MAYBE making it through this month and most certainly not.

If one person comes up with a “see, this is why you need savings” message, I’m going to fucking slap them, by the way, because two years of very unlucky employment and bad luck erased my savings, and THIS was going to be the month that I finally got ahead enough to get all the little things I needed so I COULD start saving again.

Now it’ll take a loan, ironically, to make it possible for me to even begin saving money now, let alone before next summer. And it breaks my heart a little because I know the only thing I really want money for right now is security, because fear like this is just not fun.

Funny how life works, so many little stresses and difficulties that all seem to weave together like a tapestry of strife– each thing unto itself not all that bad, but when brought together, it’s enough to be a proverbial end-game, and not the way you want it played or ended, either.

This is where I am. I did what I had to do, what I could barely make happen, the starting of a small, short short-term-disability leave, the most time I could manage… which I justified by doing math when I was on my painkillers. Afterwards, I realized I’d done all the math wrong, and here I am, a little worse off than I thought, just enough so that it’s going to make for a long, long night tonight.

I must say, one thing about times like these is, you see what kind of people you’re mixed with. So, I’ve got some interesting perspective on the men who’ve been attempting to court me, and I’m not so sure it’s in their favour. More on that another time.

I guess this all will soon pass. It’s always darkest before dawn, etc. I know that. But when it’s real, real dark, that’s when you most need a little light. Today’s the day I’m having trouble seeing some.

Welcome to Growing Up 101, where life seldom heads where you were expecting it to.

Oh, and in regards to previous postings jokingly saying it’d be a great time to donate to my PayPal? Now would be fucking spectacular. And anyone who has a problem with me saying on MY blog that it’d be nice for a fairy-fucking-godparent to step out of the existential mist and donate money to me “on principal”, well, go read one of the other fucking 60 million blogs in the world. Sometimes asking for help is the only fucking avenue we have open to us, and believe me, I’ve been looking for avenues. And this is where they’ve led me. Right now, pride’s a luxury I can’t afford. Life’s a cunt sometimes, that’s how the cookie crumbles. We all get ours. Like I say, this too will pass. My PayPal button’s top left of my sidebar. Have at ‘er. Or not. I understand, either way. But don’t you dare give me flak for mentioning it. I’d rather have my pride. Right now, I’ll take money–if I can.