Turns out if you post a link in a blog it doesn't show up until ages later when someone gets around to reading it. That's good, kind of, right? Because someone's reading it? I don't know, I can be pretty full of hot air.
In any case, this is actually day 3's blog. If you want to chronologically order it. If you're a fan of alphabetizing you are so out of luck. That's an OCD joke, but my humor gets really dry sometimes, I'm sorry. No offense meant!
Today I made what I thought was tremendous progress. Not only did I not go straight home from work, dope up on xanax, and spin and sleep – no, I went shopping! True, I didn't actually have the money to shop, but I WAS still on the xanax, so I didn't stress too hard about it. Let the hard times roll.
By the way, when I say I'm poor, I don't mean I can't afford a new car or a three story house. I mean for the past few years I've been barely keeping a roof over my head, barely feeding my animals and fosters, and barely having the money to put gas in my tank to get to work if I've managed to find some. I mean I've been living on continental breakfasts and free food from family members for over a year and only grocery shopping when I happen to have overtime stacked up. I really, really mean poor. It'll come up again, just not right now. Whatevs.
In any case, part of that means that since I started working here at the hotel almost a year and a half ago, I've been wearing the same pair of slacks that I've had to mend countless times with complimentary sewing kits along with a slew of Sir's polo shirts (because none of mine fit or were professional enough).
But this morning! The first place we went when I finally got off work (an hour and a half late, yay…) was an inexpensive shop and I got a beautiful pair of slacks that actually fits, two work shirts that are MEANT for girls to wear, two t-shirts (because the rest of my clothes that aren't for work are in the house), 14g earrings for my ears, and hair dye! I'm going red. Body mods and changing my hair is something I used to be able to do whenever I wanted, so it's nice to have that little piece of expression back when everythign else feels like it's been squashed.
I wound up too tired when we finally got to Sir's folk's house to actually dye my hair, but we did stop by our house first to walk the dogs. I got to see my little girls (the dogs – no kids for us yet) and the neighbor dog (who loves us more than his neglectful family, heh). I checked the mail, which involves walking to the end of the street and back. I got out of the car, stayed in the yard for at least ten minutes, went all the way to the front door and even cracked it.
I was so proud of myself I could have exploded.
I called Sir out to come see, because he was inside feeding the foster kittens, and he…
Got upset with me for not coming inside. He gave me the crazy face. Hell, he even SAID to quit being crazy.
I hate crazy-face. I hate feeling like you can't be honest with the most important people in your life because they can't understand that when you make a huge accomplishment and want to be proud, it's not a shortcoming just because you aren't to the level they are yet. It's been three days. Give me time. I'm talking about myself to the world, to strangers, to people who aren't mad at me and aren't giving me crazy-face. Don't these things take time?
Can't he be proud of me, call me a good gir, and put me safely back in the car? (P.S. – not a typo, he calls me gir)