Frustration

While it was fun to joke about sharing a bed with my sister, somehow the reality is giving me bronchitis.
I've been kinda living like a hermit, rolling from the bed to the computer and forcing myself to the corner gas station for a cup of coffee just to see if the sun came out that day. While in the summer I'm sure it's nice to have the bedroom window completely covered in wild ivy that fills to the last leaf with butterflys, in October, it's simply a pile of deadness covering whatever amount of light the overcast days of fall might allow. And the roomie is more than accomodating, but to be offered food every time I leave the bedroom accompanied with the hour of chat that has every one of her sentances starting with "it's like"... I got bored of it when I lived with a 21 year old, to have a 50 year old doing it is just driving me more and more into my hole.
Well, Sister's hole.
Add to this the screwy sleep cycle (about 4 consecutive hours is all I've managed since returning to CA), the hours spent medling in my old boxes in an effort to ween myself off the packrat mentality and into the tiny Uhaul cross country road trip mentality, and the ashen air replaced with the wet mild fog has my lungs not knowing if they hate living with 5 cats and a broken vacuum more than they hate dust and ash and wetness. Though I do admit there is something almost hot about a Demi Moore rasp, the random hacking cough is getting to be less random and more of a humbling reminder to find the sweatshirts amist the packed boxes.
Perhaps the worst of it all is the leads I've had from jobs and apartments - just enough to get me glued to the internet for 15 hours a day hitting refresh for a morsel of hope that I really will be able to hop in the car next week and start my new life.
In the mean time, its a barrage of moving company quotes, meanial keep busy jobs, shitty roomie situations with outlandish lease requirements, and a few big fish that keep tugging my heartstrings of hope.

It will happen, I'll find a way, but the waiting has me remembering that sometimes being the romantic optomistic has it's perks - everlasting patience for the better.

Oh, there's been plenty of drama too, but honestly, I'm bored of it myself, so you'll miss this round of blah blah dad emails and blah blah Sister bitch fit and blah blah I've deleted half the numbers in my phone for how great my 'friends' have been this week and blah blah Mr. Man hasn't left my email or text alone for more than 6 hours in over a week now and somehow that makes me more sad than excited even though I'm waiting here for him to come take me to Vegas next week.
Back to the rental applications and counting my dollars as they slip out of my account...