So I’ve just drank the last beer in the house. The significance of this will become apparent later.
We’ve hit a bit of a bump here at buKit central and financially, things aren’t what all would hope it could be. Well, at least us anyway.
At this point, I’ll take the opportunity to mention to all family and friends reading this that this IS NOT a veiled, or, poorly contrived effort to solicit money. A blogging superhero of mine once mentioned that the only true bloggers were one’s that didn’t sensor or regulate what they wrote but just wrote it, with no thought as to who would be reading it. I think he made this comment in reference to Raymi. Anyway…
My point is, by spewing all this forth, I’m merely just venting. Writing. Healing. Whatever you choose to call it. I just want to be honest. Not all blog entries are ‘the day I met Bono and the sun shined.’ Er. Something.
I’m currently writing this into Simple Text ’cause I’ll need to save it to post from work tomorrow. See, I’ve got no more internet. We cancelled that. I’ve got no long distance phone either, so don’t expect me to call you. We’ve lowered our satellite to the basic package so we only get 175 channels of mindless drivel vs. the 375 we were getting with our boosted package.
If that doesn’t get your attention, I’ve ‘decided’ that I simply can’t afford to play hockey this year.
Grim times indeed.
What’s all this about you ask? Well, bucks, man. Bucks. We don’t have enough of them. We are out of bounds and it’s finally caught up with us. The cupboard is bare.
Yours truly is looking for a second job. That’s right. Like a schlep one – working at the grocery store.
So I’m cruising the want ads. The other day I went into a Sobey’s and filled our an application. AN APPLICATION. I haven’t filled out a job application in probably 10 years. What worries me more is that they haven’t called me yet. Perhaps I’m a liability. I always hear about these drunken designers going on shooting rampages when their books aren’t deemed up to snuff.
It would appear I’m not good enough to serve up rotisserie chickens to the 5 o’clock crowd. Well, at least not yet.
So now I’m looking for alternate ways to help pay the rent.
I dunno. I’m just here to vent, people. Let me vent.
It will (probably) work out. These things usually do. But you never think that in the midst of them. At the time, they are full-scale monumental realizations that hit you like a ton of utility bills in mail bags dropped on your head.
And then the freelance goes away.
I’m digging out now. Stay tuned. My hosting is paid up for 2 years as of October, so I’ll be checking in regardless.
From someone else’s internet connection.
Which brings me to my original point.
The sole remaining beer. It was a Fin du Monde, left over from the Quebec trip. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, but tonight, it lost out to impulse.
It was so good. And now it’s gone.
With a 24 of Alpine in cans ringing in at $48, beer – even in it’s basest form – is now something I can’t afford. Lyn has given up her vice – pop – as well, as it’s to expensive.
$48 for a case of beer. Even with the deposit on the cans, there is something so fucking wrong with that.
Revenue Canada wrote me to tell me that they had denied my claim for moving expenses to Canada and I owed them $500. This is 3 months AFTER they sent me my refund of around $800 – which of course was spent a long time ago.
Another branch of Canadian Government wrote to tell me that they had calculated my child income tax deductions wrong and they were crediting me $200 which they conveniently deposited directly into my account THAT VERY DAY via direct deposit.
Today, they wrote again to tell me that they had calculated wrong and wanted $100 of the money back.
I’m angry. I’m stressed. I’m exhausted.
Lyn’s Mom said something to the effect that ‘when times are hard, as long as you’re still able to laugh together, that’s what’s important.’
I’ve got a bike sitting in the garage that’s been waiting to be built for 3 years. I have all the parts. I’ve been too busy or too uninspired to find the time to do it. This is a crime. I want to swear I’ll have it done before the new year, but am afraid to set myself up for the disappointment when it isn’t and I’ve set the deadline.
I think I’ll play the 3 chords I’ve learned on guitar for another 1/2 hour and go to bed.
Seems like the best thing to do. Really.
Have some thoughts or a comment?
Would love to hear what you have to say. Drop me an email .