10 May 2024

Still preparing to go. I have always hated moving, and I hate it even more when I’m the one who has to get everything ready, even though I am excellent at packing, especially when I have funds for all the proper materials. Hating getting ready to move is entirely my fault. I have a very bad habit of acquiring things I don’t need (entertaining myself is also sort of a need, but how much am I entertaining myself when I never use the entertaining item? Get your mind out of the gutter) and then not getting rid of them for years. The not-getting-rid part might not be so bad if I did not have the awful habit of once in a while running across said unused objects and thinking, “I had better keep that because I’ll use it eventually.” Reader, I do not use it eventually. I should be ashamed of myself but this is lazy materialism, not serial rape.

Long story short, I should already be able to pack three bags and go, with no more than one to three cartons of things to go to Goodwill because I needed them here but won’t need them without a car. Instead, I find myself triaging my belongings into Keep, Ship, or Goodwill, which makes everything take ten times longer than it ought to take. I don’t mean the selection process; that has mostly not been difficult. I mean containerizing the objects so that I can transport them.

I would still be faster at this effort than I currently am, but I’m terrified of selling the car. First there is the obvious reason: once I have sold the car, it will be literal years before I can acquire another one unless something really unexpected happens. Secondly, it would be just like Dad to tell me he changed his mind about the ultimatum the very fucking minute I get back to Carrie’s from Lake Charles. Not that I’ll give him many openings to discuss anything with me once I am out the door, but it is not outside the realm of possibility even so. Thirdly, and maybe my biggest problem, I am terrified they won’t pay me enough for the car. This factor more than any of the others has slowed me down considerably because I am afraid it will stop me in my tracks.

See, I need starting-out money. I figure that if I can possibly still have five hundred left over after I get where I’m going, I’ll be okay for several months. If the specific one I have in mind is available where I’m going, I’ll be switching to a cheaper phone service when I get there. Failing that, I’ll look for something similar. I will want a local number anyway — high time I ditched the Ohio one. I may even do research into changing my hosting service, as little as I want to do that because I have one website (hi, Rory) that will be an absolute bitch to move. Probably I will end up not doing it. If I don’t then, if my phone service switcharoo happens, I’ll be at about $60 a month in expenses since I will not be paying for auto insurance anymore. It will buy me time to either find a job or else get some self-employment income going OR both. I’m fine with both. Nothing that my future roommate needs me doing around the house is going to take up my entire day, and one of those chores isn’t going to be a thing until winter, and another will only be a thing when she’s out of town, and then there’s only one other one. And I think she goes out of town a few times a year, but she’s not CONSTANTLY gone. Like me, she is a homebody. Doggos will have five-star service whether I’m working or not. So if I end up with both a job and a side gig, whatever. I will not suddenly be liable for rent, I’m used to not having much, and I have to keep in mind that a move will happen again at some point, so I’m not going to want to acquire much. I’ll be able to save up a LOT.

(Not enough to retire on in seventeen years, DAD. But a lot just the same.)

If I only get around $1000 for the car, my other problem is that I need to ship that of my stuff which I intend to ship to her house. (Or to her P.O. box. Either way. We need to talk about that, actually.) I will use the cheapest methods possible, and clever little me decided to employ a few flat-rate Priority boxes for the denser stuff, but it’s still going to add up. I’m assuming about $20 a box right now, average. There are more than five. You get the idea.

IDEALLY I walk away from the car sale with a net amount of around $1500. One-third of that for the trip, one-third of that for the shipping, and then one-third of it to last me… some amount of time.

It helps that I seem to be done with periods. That’s a major expense right there, gone poof. I still like those Poise pads, but I can wear one of those per day and I’m fine. Sounds gross, but we already do that with underwear, so who fucking cares. It’s saving me money. That’s all I care about.

I will also use the last of my Walmart gift card balances to obtain noms for the trip. No reason I should waste my money on the road. There is a special place in hell for transit vendors who take advantage of a captive market to screw over low-income travelers. This is a longstanding problem and not likely to end today. I will just have to plan for it.

It even occurs to me that I should take ONE water bottle, and also take some flavor drops (the bottles for those are small), and be prepared to refill the bottle at stops. They have water fountains or, failing that, sinks in the restrooms. DAMN I’M BRILLIANT.

And then I catch myself sliding my reading glasses down my nose to look for my reading glasses. Never mind.

(That didn’t actually happen just now. But it’s happened before. Because of course it has.)

(Sliding down my nose? Yes. It’s like a weird form of bifocals. My mid-range vision is still okay and my distance vision is fair to middling — good enough to pass a DMV vision test — and anyway, reading glasses are designed for close work. I can’t focus on anything through them past about two feet away from my face, thus must slide my glasses down my nose to look far away. And that’s the weaker ones. The stronger ones are worse. Shorter focus field.)

ANYWAY. I could ask Dad for going-away money, but I haven’t even talked with him about leaving. (More on that in a minute.) My other option is on the “a little help” page here. I set up a new GoFundMe. I would rather not go begging like that, and if there were some way for me to offer little premiums like a doodle or whatever, I would do it, but I think I’ve said somewhere before that I’d be an idiot not to exploit all possible resources in a situation like this. It’s masochistic. I am not a masochist, just a complainer. There’s a huge difference. The masochist would be enjoying herself and thus NOT complaining. That aside, even little dribs and drabs here and there from the GoFundMe would help sustain me for a while. Look at it this way. You’re not funding some poor girl’s self-mutilation mastectomy. You get to help GFM give money to a terf. Feel smug. You’ve earned it.

I thought about doing some more Ubering and that was my first impulse, yes, but these fucking roads… I thought the southeast Columbus metro area was horrible. There are entire sections of Louisiana’s state highways where the pothole-patching IS the pavement. And of course it’s uneven, and my suspension is halfway to shot so I feel every fucking bump. I think my poor car has taken enough abuse. Hopefully Carvana will take good care of her and then whoever gets her next will be a retiree who just needs to run errands once a week. She’s earned a retirement herself.

(I know she is not literally female. But she mah bud. She saved my ass SO many times and, for a while, she was even home and safety. This is another reason I’m dreading the sale. That car is also the last place my daughter and I ever sat together to enjoy a meal: car picnic with sushi, natch. This is going to hurt. I fucking know it.)

Speaking of retirees. No, I have not talked with Dad about leaving. I do not even expect to be in his house past the end of the weekend. I’m not telling him and I’m not saying goodbye. He was a shit to me about the matter of the Ubering. First he was happy because he viewed it as me getting a job — which was fine, I never intended it to be my final stop, I just wanted a stopGAP so I could keep my bills paid until I found something better — and then, VERY SUDDENLY, he did a 180 and issued the ultimatum. You know what? I’m done with Mr. Hyde. Mr. Hyde can fuck right off. Dr. Jekyll appears to have kicked the bucket lots of years ago. I don’t need this shit. So he can think I’m mean all he wants. Everyone else can think I’m mean too. None of them ever had any real use for me anyway. I was an obligation. If I need to tell you how NOT fun it is to be viewed as an obligation, you need to get out more. And now I’m not that obligation anymore and oh boy, they all want me to know it. Read ya loud and clear, assholes. This is me, taking matters into my own hands. Hey, it’s not suicide. I will be leaving you with no mess to clean up. Not even my leftover books and things like last time. You’re fucking welcome.

It’s funny, actually. The situation at L’s will be such that I might finally be able to align my life more closely with what I want my values to be. Feminism is part of it but not the only thing. It has long vexed me that EITHER I can hang out with people who ARE NOT loony vegan genderdorks OR I can hang out with feminists but I couldn’t seem to accomplish both at once — at least, inasmuch as said loony vegan genderdorks claim to be feminist, and of course they aren’t. That problem’s about to be solved. Either I am in for the disillusionment of my fucking life or I’m in for some massive improvement in my circumstances. I really hope it’s the latter. The signs are encouraging.

Don’t count on me talking about my housemate much. There are safety issues involved, because we have a lunatic-overpopulation problem in this country and none of them are being kept in check when it comes to uppity women with a command of the facts. (Y’all quit acting like this is a difference of opinion. We are literally getting our lives ruined for TELLING THE TRUTH.) I also don’t anticipate a situation like the one with Matt and definitely not like the one with Dad. For one, I’ll actually be able to breathe the fucking air because L doesn’t smoke. It’ll be fucking great. And no animals pissing and shitting in the house either, other than hoomins using the toilet, unless someone has an accident. I expect the latter will be quite rare.

Okay. I got on here in the first place to test a couple external drives I found in my stuff, and I thought I had better provide an update to the latest festivities, but now it has turned into more procrastination. Let me get on with that other thing. ‘Later.