Dribs & Drabs
I hate being poor.
I'm working on fixing that. But in the meantime, I'm living on dribs and drabs.
Tonight I made $60, which has to immediately go to the electric company without either passing Go or collecting $200. Over the course of the weekend, I'll make that same amount, and pass it along to the cable company. My biggest "yay!" for the month of my birthday isn't the fact that I'm having an awesome birthday party at Cafe O2, but the fact that the Boss has a contract job for me that should let me pay off everything I owe my apartment complex. (I'm less than 2 weeks behind on the last $100 of the rent, but I have an outstanding deposit owed for the kitten, who is way too small for me to owe $175.)
I hate owing money. I hate paying bills in partial amounts, $60 this week, $20 next week, enough that it won't get cut off but never totally paid up. It's galling for someone who believes in TANSTAAFL. But honestly, I don't see how I could do any better. Even if I gave up my small vices, it wouldn't equal out to enough to make a difference.
For the first time in my adult life, I'm going to be staying in the same apartment for more than a year. I'm planning to renew on the ParcePad at the end of this month, which makes paying everything outstanding with the apartment even more important. The cats like it here. I like it here.
So, yes. I need a new job.
I saw the Moose today. (Like The Cheat, the Moose is always referred to complete with pronoun. He happened to come into Patrick's shortly after I got there, and I joined him while he drank his it's-payday beers over at Mulligan's, and talked authors, philosophy, and other such Moosey goodness, including the ability of redwoods to nourish other plant life growing parasitically with no harm to itself. The Moose was my first introduction to Our Lady Eris, and for that I worship his lotus sandals. (Even though the Moose always wears boots.) He flattered me by offering me a job at the bread-and-coffee joint where he just became a manager, but unfortunately it pays less than any job I've had in the past 4 years and doesn't offer benefits. Too bad, as I got the Moose his first "in" to work at the smoke shop when he had just come to Nashville, and there would have been a pleasing circularity to him becoming my boss. But alas, it wasn't meant to be.
For now, though, I'm exhausted enough to hit the sack instead of recounting the almost-race-riot I saw on Second tonight. That will just have to wait.
posted by Pope Lizbet @ 4:57 AM
3 comments
3 Comments:
Amen. My fingers are crossed for you, and good job thoughts are headed your way.
And hear hear- what about a riot?
Yikes!
At least you have your very own The Moose.
I may have discovered the Moose when he first came to the big NashVegas, but he belongs solely to our Lady Eris and his own Lady Wife, who is 6 months pregnant. (Yay! We call it the proto-Moose.)
The almost-riot, because I've decided I don't really want to write about it as its own blog post because it wasn't as exciting after I slept on it:
There are some gentlemen of color who have the bad habit of commandeering the tables on street level of the Emporium in order to hustle change, drinks, and try to get people to purchase their (terrible) CDs. They are foul-mouthed, they are rude, and because of the design, when they get loud the come-ons and pitches are all you can hear down in Cafe 02. They've been warned multiple times, but until recently they've been playing off the owners (if Kevin asked them to stop loitering, one of them had bought cigarettes from upstairs, but if Pat asked them all of a sudden they had gotten the water they were drinking at Cafe 02.) Eventually that fell through and the situation has been kind of coming to a head.
An associate of mine who shall remain nameless because he was drunk and acting a fool went up one night close to close and started talking to some of the dudes, which quickly turned into a verbal disagreement when they accused the owners of O2 of being racists for not wanting them hovering at the entrance to their place of business 'spanging. We're all quite fond of Kara and Kevin and my boy wasn't taking that, so he started out talking reasonably about what they were doing and it ended up in a shouting match. Matt and I were closing, and Matt went upstairs once to tell them to shut up, then just let it go until we were done, at which point he went up the stairs furious (both at our mutual acquaintance and at the dudes) and ordered everybody out of the building because we were the last business open and we were now closed. One of the hustlers decided Matt was now also being a racist and started yelling, and the whole vibe finally got so ridiculously menacing with everyone yelling and these guys physically keeping everyone from leaving that Matt busted through their ranks and had to get a cop off Second, at which point I slipped my happy ass out the backdoor and to my car because cops give me a rash.
Turns out nobody got arrested or cited, but the hustlers have been behaving themselves (mostly) since then and have stopped commandeering the tables from nine to three am, so at this point everybody's happy. It was pretty intense.
I am, also, incidentally, now 25 years and eighteen minutes old. Go me.
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