This is not what I signed up for. For months we’ve been watching time pass, slowly and quickly, as I struggle to not work long hours for entry level wages and we both cope with the ridiculous apartment in the crap town in which we live.
Today, we spent too much money on four bags of groceries. And despite the fact that the place was packed with workers stocking shelves and parents and their seemingly multiplying children who make getting in the fucking while screaming and screeching way a motherfucking art form we still ended up holding just two rolls of the brand of toilet paper we use.
Only two left, you see, despite the fact that the workers are always stocking the shelves and there is always something basic missing — like milk, cheese or toilet paper.
Yes, it’s nice to not have to ride the subway at all. I ride Metro North now, and walk to the office, which will be relocating when the lease is up. Who knows when that will be. But I would endure the 7 once more if it meant feeling like a drink and not having to race because the store is closing at 7:30 or 8 or even 9. If I could say, hey, I don’t like this Laundromat anymore — we should try the one over there. Hey, it’s 11 p.m. and I just realized we need milk for tomorrow morning. Or hey, let’s go to this bar instead of that bar because they have that potato leek soup we love.
I’m tired. We are both at the ‘something’s got to give’ point. And it doesn’t help that I seem to be stuck in figurative quicksand at work. We’re tired of feeling stuck. And all it’s done is infuse me with patience and wanderlust — a dangerous combination.
Is this the beginning of the end I knew was inevitable? Oh, you fickle and wicked city. I tried. I tried with all my heart.
Wanting to keep your options open and bettering your situation should never be seen as a bad thing. And anyone who makes you feel guilty about that is merely undervaluing you and the hard work you do.