thirteen
FuckYou, Jerry
An afternoon of laundry and cat litter later, I wimp out on having another protein bar and order a veggie supreme pizza for dinner instead. I spend the night agonizing over my plans, and how behind they are. “Microwave,” “Fridge,” and “Stove” were not as high up on my list as they needed to be, so I take to the internet to find a local outlet.
The pizza is fine, I guess, and everything at the appliance store is either crazy expensive or used and twenty years old. Dented, dinged, dirty…ugh.
I’m never going to get this place livable.
Wait a second…
That seems a little extreme.
I thumb over to my cycle tracker and yep, there it is. I’m six days out from my period.
Wonderful.
I take a long, deep breath, and begin rationalizing.
It’s not impossible. It’s not going to be like this forever. Just like this feeling, the state of this place is temporary. It’s going to get better.
But unlike this feeling, this place will only get better if Idosomething. And I’m not doing enough. I should’ve prepared better. I should’ve known how much work this was going to be. I’m such an idiot.
No. No. No.
I am following my dream. Dreams are hard, and they require work. I’m putting in the work. I’m doing a good job. The water is running. There’s power. The trash was removed. I found a laundromat.
I’m.
Doing.
A good.
Job.
“Fuck you, Jerry,” I mutter, eating another bite of the pizza that’s probably better than just fine.
“Jerry?” Bastian asks from his meditation circle.
“Nothing,” I mumble, swapping back over to the shopping list.
Bastian appears beside me. “Who is Jerry?”
“None of your business.”
“Everything that happens in my hoard is my business,” he retorts.
I turn to say something shitty back, but he puts his finger to my lips as he scowls.
“What the hell,” I say, slapping his arm away.
He leans in and sniffs at me.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I take a step back.
“Yousmell,” he says.
I scoff. “Awesome, thanks for letting me know.”
