Cat was kind enough to help us out by pointing us to a lovely apartment complex. The place is nice, and we would have a ground floor unit with a view. It’s a 2/1 and right in our budget. It is near transportation and close enough to the burbs to be convienant. It’s got a washer and dryer, a fireplace, and its a very pet-friendly complex. I submitted the application this week. We should be set for a place by the end of the week.
So, what’s the problem? I want a place to hang my birdfeeder. I want a tree and a yard, not even a fenced yard, but green. I want to be able to blast my music without disturbing the neighbors. I want to watch the dogs run free and bask in the sun. I want a house, and although the smart thing is to stick with the apartment, I still want a house.

This process is turning me into something dark and brooding. While I should be enjoying my last weeks in Orlando, I am scared that I will be dissatisfied with our next abode. Something in me bubbles with anger. When I feel like I have control on this unbearable monster, it rises again, and I just want to throw something, or to have a tantrum. It sounds juvenile and petty. We are about to embark on an adventure, and that requires flexibility. But the home is sacred, and I want it to be what I’m used to (at least to some extent — something with better insulation would be nice). It’s my own mind causing this trouble, and that’s the hardest part. All I really need to do is to change my mind, but that’s harder than I thought it would be.

And on top of it all — they put the “For Rent” sign in front of our house. It made me swallow my heart a little.

On a happier note, we spent Saturday night with Kim @ McCraneys (which is now my new hangout). She’s a funny motherfucker, and we mocked the super-fab kids with special hair. BUT there was an interesting development. A very “pretty” (as in commercially pretty) girl stumbled up to our table carrying a gas can. She was hitting everyone up for money because she was moving to LA. I thought it was an interesting way to go about getting gas money. Perhaps I should try this.

I got new sunglasses. They have wooden parts. They are cool. And, the lenses won’t fall out! AND they are my actual prescription.

This is my last week of work. I don’t know how I feel about it. I think I will wallow in my self-pity and drink my coffee. Don’t worry. The manic depression will swing me out of the low in a bit. It always does.