The death of the hybrid dream...for now

I listed this as a political tie :)

I had some not-so-fun talks yesterday about the car situation. I had to be told, first by a friend, then by my dad, that I need to let go of my used hybrid dream. It's not possible in my current financial situation. It hurts to hear the truth. It really does, but it's the only way to move forward. I've been stuck in the dream, and it's kept me stuck in the Rabbit, which I discovered last night is full of black widows, not because it doesn't run, but because the tree in our front yard has an entire ecosystem existing inside of it.

So instead of the $8000 range, I am now looking more at the $2000 range. Hey, moving from 30+ to 20+ years-old is a move in the right direction. I found an '87 Honda Shuttle that I really like, but the owner hasn't responded yet to my query. A very eager man came to look at the Rabbit last night at 9:30, and wanted to take it right there, on-the-spot, cash in hand. But it was late, and I had blood sugar on the lower side, so I wasn't willing to make such a huge decision. Also, it was dark, and everything looks different when the sun comes up.

My dad says I need to get a Honda. I told him that they get stolen more than any other car. He didn't believe me. I told him that it felt ethically wrong to lower my mpg by buying a new car. He quoted Lenin. That made me feel better.

Post flea market meltdown

I feel so bad right now. The flea market was so much work, and not worth the time and energy in the end, which makes me feel like I can't keep doing this reselling thing. I'm fooling myself to believe that I can continue to support myself this way. I couldn't pay my rent this month. I had to ask for help, and now I feel like this thing that I love so much has quickly become the thorn in my side.

I feel like my needs are exponentially greater than I can possibly meet. I need a job with health insurance, but I don't qualify for jobs that offer it. I'm stuck with a masters degree and now I'm almost thirty and my body is falling apart, and I need health care more than ever, and I'm less able to get it every day. I have less than three months to solve this problem, and now it feels like the sky is falling.

I need to eat, but my body doesn't want to eat because it's hot and I feel sick, but my mood is directly related to my food intake.

That's all for now.

Actual Postscript: Um, I just looked over my posts over the last week and it appears that I am having a total breakdown. I'm not. I'm functional, but graduation has taken the wind out of my sails. This too shall pass, I assume, as it always does.

A funny morning

I really needed lip gloss today. It was freezing, and when I looked in the mirror late morning, my lips were white. I already have light skin, so when I'm cold, my face kinda disappears. Not good.

There was a somewhat-nearby thrift store that usually has makeup with damaged packaging, so I went there, but there was nothing resembling lip gloss. At this point, I had low blood sugar and needed to drive across town, so I figured I'd go somewhere where I could find both orange juice and lip gloss. I only had enough time for one stop before my next appointment.

I found the solution to both of my problems at Big Lots: Fun bright lip gloss in a tube, and a gross package of raisins that I opened and started eating while standing in line. A kid in a shopping cart whining for candy watched wide-eyed as I literally stuffed my mouth with raisins.

Unfortunately, I am a stickler when it comes to fixing low blood sugar. I feel like I can't use it as an opportunity to eat crap, so sometimes I get frantic combing aisles for the healthiest sugar option. Add frantic combing for lip gloss (there was a cute guy involved), and you have a funny morning.

Less pie.

$6.27.

That's how much I spent today. I think I'm doing better not thrifting compulsively. One of the hardest things is not buying things for other people. I have a friend I buy clothes for, a teacher I buy books for, and then there is the year-long gift buying. When I find something, I get it, and then I'm always ready when a birthday comes.

Now I am feeling calmer. Instead of buying all of the vintage Vogue sewing patterns that I found, I only bought the two most valuable ones. I'm so proud of myself. That viewing of Hoarders really did me some good. I also dropped off a box of stuff today for donating.

I am not compulsive. I am healthy and make healthy decisions. But I did eat too much sugar last night and the headache I woke up with was killer.

Next step in healthy decision-making: less pie.

How did I get so tired?

I gave everything I had today. I don't think I knew that I was doing it when it was happening, but as I wandered the aisles of the rescue mission thrift store after work, losing more and more blood sugar as the minutes went by, and slowly losing the ability to focus on anything, it struck me that I was not doing well.

I casually picked up items I wanted to purchase, only to quickly tire of carrying them and set them down. Without a thought in my head, I went through books and made stacks of teen series: Sweet Valley High, Babysitter's Club, Goosebumps. I put on a cardigan and wandered aimlessly around the warehouse-sized store looking for a mirror. There were shoulder pads in the sweater. It did not look good (I am having so much trouble with loose clothing lately. Blerg.).

It struck me that if I could do research in the store (i.e. with a smart phone), my life would be so much easier. But that would entail me purchasing a new phone, which I have never done, so it feels like a decadent expense. Also, between my savings and checking accounts, I have $30, and my car doors need to be fixed before it starts to get cold (and rainy). So I'm looking around at phones. It would be an investment, after all, so I don't feel like it would be a sin or anything, but of course, the absence of funding makes it impossible at the moment.

So, you of course are welcome to donate to the cause, though there are far worthier causes to donate to. I have quite a lot of trouble getting people to give me money, in fact. There is a certain person in my life (who shall remain nameless for my sake, not theirs) who, every time I complain about money, tells me I would be an excellent sex worker. This same person also promises to find me a man, but conveniently is always too busy trying to time travel when the need arises (you know who you are).