You know, I haven't had a full-time job since January 31 of this year. Have you noticed that? Have you wondered how the Sam Hill I am getting by?
And I'll TELL you how--barely. I've given up luxuries like, you know, food, and I'd have no social life if it weren't for Ned. I've gotten some money from Bank of Family, thank god, and I have completely maxed out my credit cards. You know things are going well when you charge shampoo.
If you wonder if this is stressful, oh, no. Not at all. It does not at all worry me that Ima lose my house, have to give up my pets (NOT TALLULAH) (I will be the homeless person with the dog. That will be me. Just NOT TALLULAH, you hear me?) and move God knows where. It's been fun.
Yesterday I found out The Thing is not gonna happen. Remember there was this great opportunity that really looked like a sure thing, just some papers had to be signed and the deal had to be closed? Yeah. It did not happen. My former workplace wants to keep me on till the end of the year, so at least I knew I had THAT income, but at 25 hours a week, it was not beginning to cover the bills.
So I had all that on my mind yesterday, and $40 in the bank, and my house payment is due today, and as I'm driving home from fake work with that cloud over me,
My car starts scraping. SCRAPING. Like it was doing its zombie impression for the holiday.
Even more reassuring, on my dashboard, a yellow light came on that looked like my car with a giant screw sticking out of the hatch. That is the only way I can describe the image to you. I went home and Googled Volkswagon warning lights and they didn't even HAVE that one as an option. My car MADE IT UP for the occasion.
As work had been drawing to a close, Ned had called. "You want to see a movie tonight?" he asked. "Yeah, maybe," I said, "but I'm handing out candy right now. Call me after your hair." Ned was getting his hair cut. Getting his 'do on. Going in for extensions.
Yesterday at fake work we had a costume contest for the adults, and later people brought in their kids to get candy.
Oh, I WISH I could show you the women who dressed as a party animal, but I don't know her and didn't get permission to show her. She had on a leopard dress, leopard tights, leopard shoes and gloves and a lampshade on her head. LOVE.HER.
But back to my scrape.
And that was it. That was when June, here, lost all her dignity and her positive thinking and her this-too-shall-pass mojo. I just sat there on my pavement and cried. Oh, I cried. Because I didn't even have the money to tow that car in. Much less fix it. I was already gonna pay my house payment late. Now this?
This was it. The thing that'd push me over the edge to homeless.
Now, don't get irked at me, but I called Daniel Boone. Because (a) he can fix ANYTHING, and he has in the past fixed things over the phone while he directs me. And he's really clear and knows just exactly what I'm looking at and he's kind of geniusy.
"Okay, first of all, you need to calm down," he said, which always works. Have you ever calmed down when someone tells you to? He made me send a photo of the hangy thing, and said he'd do some Googling and call back.
In the meantime, I called my boss. Do you know what must be fun? Being my boss. I TRIED not to cry, but of course I did, and I said I was going to ask TinaDoris, who lives near me, to take me to work on her lunch hour, and take me home after and would those hours be okay for him.
He assured me it would be okay, and that he himSELF would come get me if needed--I live pretty close. But not walking distance. Besides, I can't walk with this STUPID PLANTAR FASCIITIS.
The thought of that made me cry some more.
I was on a crying JAG, is what I was. Oh, I was at the end of my rope.
Then, the phone rang. It was Ned, finishing up his foil frost. I picked up the phone and all I could do is cry. "I'll be right there," said Ned. And he was. He walked in and pulled a Ferrero Rocher out of his pocket.
Ned might be the perfect man.
In the meantime, D Boone called to say this was a hooodeldy-hoo-doo, and they fall off Volkswagons all the time, and one doesn't really NEED it, and I could just unscrew it or pull it or hit it till it came off. "Really?" I sobbed. "Yes. And you know I will loan you money, June. Don't be ridiculous. Let's just solve this and we'll solve the rest later."
You can say what you want, but Daniel Boone is a good friend.
As soon as Ned and I were headed into my house, my phone rang. It was my boss at fake work. "I just found this out, and given your day thought you'd want to know now. We need you to freelance for us full time till the end of the year."
"Well. That's...welcome news," I said, trying to not get weepy AGAIN. "It is," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow. I have a cheese emergency." His kid's cheese had slid clean off his pizza. I mean, it DOES suck when that happens.
So this is what I am saying to you. I was saved from the very maws of financial ruin. I mean, I'm still pretty ruined, but at least I'll have enough money now to get by till 2013. And there is a chance they can hire me for real after the first.
Ned and I did go to the movie, in case you were worried sick. I left candy on the porch for any leftover trick-or-treaters, and we saw this:
It's like Baraka, if you saw that. No dialogue or plot, just one beautiful image after another. There was one scene of a sun rising over the mountain. "That looks like a to-go container," I said.
Sometimes I think Ned wonders if I'm worth the effort.