Ah well. I'm an idiot. I have just heard word that the apartment I had planned on has possibly been taken by someone else. I did not move fast enough. I hardly moved at all, frankly. I really don't want to leave this place, although I know I should because I'm currently living outside of my means. So I dilly dallied and let everyone else do the work for me and then ignored all of their instructions and pleas for action. All I needed to do was make one phone call and write one check and deposit this one check with Timalina. These two things? I should have done them a week ago. Instead, I just didn't do them. This morning I got email from Timalina. Apartment gone. I'm secretly happy.

However, and therefore, and uh-oh: all signs point to me not getting a class to teach in the fall (signs: no word from the English Dept., budget crisis, my position as lowest on the teaching totem pole) and I shall soon be fucked up the ass because if I don't make a commitment to move in the next week I will have to sign a new year-long lease, etc. etc. ad nauseam, blah. Money honey is my downfall. And time. And my lazy bones.

Timalina is graciously acting as my Carr St. mole--finding out if the apartment is actually taken and also scoping out other potential locales for me. I need a windfall. Don't we all? I would love to be able to just stay still for a bit. Stay in my house. Get the lawn mower fixed. Get a washer and dryer. Stay here. That is all I want. Stay stay stay.

Speaking of staying, last night I stayed up way past my bedtime working on one of my projects, which I will say no more about except that it was fun and that it's not quite turning out how I envisioned it, but still it's ok. I also rented movies for the first time in forever and ever (since before I started this diary, in fact--holy smokes). I watched The Others. It was good. Delicious. Creepy. I also watched Serendipity (barf) because of John Cusack, because I couldn't actually believe he would be in something completely awful, but I was wrong. It was completely awful. Totally boring and stupid and I left the room for most of it--sat outside with Bash while it kept playing. I couldn't tell you a thing about it except that. Romantic comedies are stupid. I'll take mindless action over mindless kissing any day of the week.

Talked for a good while on the phone with me mum, also. I'm beginning to feel the family's imminent arrival anxiety already. Five weeks away and I'm getting stressed out. Thing is, with my parents, I get a little crazed because they do things the way they've always done things and I don't do things that way anymore--not since I left home and it drives me batty to fall back into those same old familial patterns. Plus the close quarters. Plus my dad is so restless all the time, practicing his golf swing or munching on pretzels, or dreaming up schemes to bug me. Whatever.

I'm not going to move. I'm just not. Unless this apartment magically comes through with no effort expended on my part, I'm just not going to move. Fuck it all. Somehow it'll work out. Right?

The day is fast slipping away from me. My brain is fractious. I've been thinking of the word fractious for two days now, hoping to find an appropriate use for it. Thank god for that at least.

What I should be doing now: laundry, yard work, house cleaning. What I feel may happen: hermitizing. I haven't walled myself into my life in a while now. Haven't had a day where I don't talk on the phone or see people or have some level of sociability thrust upon me. Today may be the lost day. The day I sit in front of this machine and let my brain rot.

Cheer up, old girl.

Oh merciless dread, leave me be.