Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “moot.” Use it as the theme of your post or just use the word in a stream of consciousness post about something else. Enjoy!
This prompt is a moot point. Regardless of what Linda posted for Saturday’s prompt, this stream of consciousness writing was going to be about the one consuming thing I’ve had on my mind since before Thanksgiving.
Back in the old posts (still temporarily set to private), is the saga of how I moved from Kentucky to New England with only what fit into my Mustang. Most of the interior of the car was taken up with a cat and cat supplies, computers and computer supplies. The trunk was for clothes, and anything else I deemed necessary for the few months I’d need to live in the (mentally abusive) jerk’s basement. while I looked for a job.
I was at the jerk’s longer than anyone wanted. Then I got a job and found a tiny, old, crappy apartment that costs way too much money. Then I lost my job, got a temp job, and lost the temp job. It took about five months for my current employer to get its collective act together, and I started there early this year.
Those few months of camping with only what fit into my car have turned into two years. All of my stuff is still in Kentucky. I’ve been struggling to save money to go get it, but I’ve just barely gotten to the point where I can pay my rent on time. I have next to nothing in my apartment and the few things I do have that are furniture are borrowed from the landlord.
Right before Thanksgiving, the person who has my stuff in Kentucky wrote a cryptic email asking, “How much money can you get by Thanksgiving?” Saying effective communication isn’t her strong suit is taking understatement to the extreme. Turns out she got one of those proverbial hairs up her behind and decided she was going to deliver my stuff to me. Except there was virtually no communication, only short notice and a lot of “maybes” in what little she did say. That long, anxiety producing story short: That trip never happened.
Instead it transformed into a vague “sometime in December.” That long story short: Apparently that trip is on and my stuff is getting delivered today. I have no idea what is coming up, what the situation is, why it was so damned urgent that it had to come now when I still have no extra cash, during the holidays, during the middle of winter in New England (hello polar vortex, record low temperatures, snow…) It sounds like it is more like a FedEx drop-off than a move. My anxiety is through the roof because of the rude, inconsiderate, horrible lack of communication, not to mention I have had to borrow money, again, because I don’t have extra cash at the moment.
I was afraid to say, “No, this won’t work. The timing is bad, and I have no money” because of the lack of communication, the passive-aggressive nature of what little communication there is, and the mystery reasons behind all of this. I am terrified I would literally lose every damn thing I own. Don’t get me wrong; I understand if my stuff has become a burden. I have offered various solutions over the past two years, all of which have been ignored. I have stated over and over that I intend to get my belongings as quickly as I can, not just for her sake, but for my own. I have nothing here. It is like my house burned down. I’m not all that into material things, but there becomes a point where it is ridiculous. If everything with my job stays status quo, I planned on having enough time and money with a tax refund, to get my things when the weather cleared a bit, in early spring.
Instead, just like with the abusive jerk and living in his basement, I am on the receiving end of a back-handed favor. I’m supposed to be grateful for the consideration, complete with all of the jerking around. It feels like getting bent over without so much as a thank you.
Who knows? It may turn out just fine. I’ll know by Sunday.
I know I am absolutely grateful for my bff from Canada, who is driving down to help with all of this, including with money. He, once again, is doing a favor (favour), without the downsides and attached strings. Without his help, this “other” favor would have been a guaranteed disaster.
I’ve been trying not to worry, without a lot of success. Everything I own is out of my control. Maybe by Sunday I’ll have a couch to sit on and more than one plate.