Heard back from Prospective Hospital Employer today via email and they will be calling me at 2pm or so tomorrow. Trying not to get too excited. One, it’s only a little over $16 an hour and I’ll be struggling to get in my final rent payment (November), possibly my final two (October and November) if they want me to start this month. It’s a full-time job and I’ll still have to deliver until I start getting paid; I doubt they have DailyPay. Two, there’s no guarantee I’ll even get the job. This was a shot in the dark because geographically the job makes sense; if I move back to Clintonville, it’s the same zip code and also, the whole thing will be accessible by city bus. Logistically, once I have my foot in the door at a hospital, I could in theory work my way up, too. I was thinking something like unit secretary or patient access representative. There are training things you can do from home to improve your chances of getting those. Hospitals usually have good benefits, too, though I am not sure I will take advantage of those right away. I think I’d need to be earning at least $18 an hour and not be living in a place that costs an arm and a leg. I’m going to try doing the VA health plan first and paying for my own dental and vision and it’ll be cheaper than whatever they’re offering there. If I get to $18 an hour and can keep an inexpensive apartment, it’ll be my ballgame. Assuming that isn’t ten years from now. Good lord.
If that doesn’t happen, well, we’ll see. I have a few places I can consult to try to get something seasonal with weekly pay. Anything like that will pay more than sixteen-whatever an hour, too. It just won’t last past January. Hypothetical Prospective Landlord doesn’t have to know that, though. Also, alternatively, I might be able to renew my lease for six more months. I am so fucking tired of people being fucking flaky. Then they want to shit all over me for being flaky. I’m like… excuse you? You all outnumber me. If none of you are going to get your shit together, there is no call to be expecting that from me, either. I’ll be over here waiting for y’all to get the fuck over yourselves. God. I hated military life and now I hate civilian life with equal fervor. I would like a happy fucking medium, please.
Got dishes washed. You would think I’d be more on top of that. I only have enough for four place settings. Oh, well… it still hasn’t gotten as bad as Matt’s place at its worst. And Matt has a fucking dishwasher. Machine. Dishwashing machine. So, even less excuse.
Still no word about the electric bill. Elizabeth had mentioned something about not being sure if she had my email address, but she does have my phone number. Wouldn’t have taken two seconds to text me about it. So this is June, July, and August now, and we’re more than halfway through September. It’s not unreasonable to assume the bill’s been about $200 a month. You know, even if she hadn’t started making noises about wanting to house family in this apartment again at some point in the future, this after telling me I could renew here, I’d be looking for an escape hatch. I do like it here, but I don’t like uncertainty at all. I can tolerate a certain amount, but if it seems like it’s going to fuck me up the ass when I’m not looking, no thank you.
The mail situation hasn’t been great either. She did give me what was ostensibly the mailbox key but it doesn’t seem to work. I’m going to try again tomorrow when I take the trash and recycling down the hill, just to make sure I didn’t have some weird brain glitch. If it really doesn’t work then I need to say something, but I don’t particularly want to talk to her until I have job news. If I do get the job, I’m getting a fucking P.O. box in Clintonville again. That’ll solve that problem. I am tired of it. I can’t get all my mail there, but I can get most of it.
I need to make jewelry. I’ve had some ideas and I keep flaking. (See above.) Having alternative income sources would be very helpful right now. Same goes for drawing. I am not my own best friend. That needs to change, NOW.