So, I've been dealing with my normal fear that my current state is going to stick around for a while. Which is fine, I suppose, as most of my free time has has been taken over by the job. I've been taking work home with me and going through it all manually, which doubles the time needed and increases the general frustration and ennui I have for calling customers and getting yelled at by them, then the sales people, and then the overlords in the mid-west.
I've taken to daydreaming about a few of the nicer aspects of the job. This amounts mostly to a paycheck and insurance, but it's something(s?) to focus on while the Trip drifts farther away. I was even thinking about fixing up the basement, upping the rent to my folks, and having something like my own place.
Then the storm came.
One foot of water across 1/8 an acre and twenty hours later, and a lot of shit was gone. All of the books I had read between middle school and my first attempt at college. 90% of the CDs. 56% of the DVDs. Clothing. All of the furniture I inherited from previous generations of the McGovern family, to be used once I have my own place. Cherry wood, almost perfectly suited to my visual preferences - glossy black with dull red centers, a dining room set.
A large chunk of my past and one possible future are now in various stages of being chucked out.
The picture of my grandmother and I...
My parents have had crying fits. I've had dreams where I'm drowning and unable to exhale and just die. I have a three day weekend of writing and hauling memories out of the basement, and moving the salvage up to the attic.
I don't really know how I feel about this. Depressed, I suppose - but I honestly don't know.
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