Reason number 712 I should not be a blogger.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I needed to get that off my chest. Only, I needed to actually scream. SCREAM. At the top of my lungs. 

Things are not great right now. Not bad. I am happy, safe, and healthy. I have a job and a house and a family and a cat that is trying to kill me. Everything is good. 

But, it seems like the universe is playing darts. On my face. Money shit. A couple hundred here, a couple hundred there. Credit cards are getting used when just two months ago we would have laughed at the thought of putting things on credit cards. We don't do that. We aren't those people. Yet, here we are. Charging away.

Work is like driving a train into an inferno of clowns all popping fucking balloon animals.(For some perspective, the sound I hate most in this world is balloons popping.) Events, lack of staff, and just general bullshit. 

EVERY SINGLE HIGHWAY WAS CLOSED ON THE WAY HOME. All of them heading west. ALL OF THEM. Do you how many stoplights there are driving through downtown and out to the west side? Let me tell you. SO MANY FUCKING STOPLIGHTS. I left at 4:15. I got home at 6:00. Fuck. Traffic.

I am overwhelmed by how unorganized the events part of my work is. Imagine taking your filing cabinet at work, emptying it on the floor. Then, set it on fire. Then put it out with, oh, honey. Then shit on it. Then put it all in a trash bag and let it sit there for two months. That is more organized than the events at my work. I spent my day returning calls from March. No, that is not a typo. I did not mean early May. I meant March. Needless to say, I got yelled at a lot today. I also got hung up on once. I did not book a single event. Which, for the record, I need to book to make my commission. I suddenly feel like someone selling ice to Eskimos. Eskimos holding better ice in their hands and glaring at me because my ice is made from water that someone used to wash their herd of donkeys. 

Remember how I don't do marketing? Huh. Seems like you are the only one.

And stress makes me ramble and talk fast and poor C got subjected to me tonight and I got off the phone and was like, FUCK. I am a crazy, rambling ass hole. He probably expected a 15 minute phone call and I hijacked his life for an hour. ASS. HOLE.

But, you guys, YOU GUYS...16 days. New house in 16 days. Yes, everything is happening all at once and the stress level is high. Yes, the boy and I may kill each other before then because of the stress. But, it is happening. We are moving. And I am thrilled.

I plan to do a video tour of the house for all of you. I am not sure that you care, but I am probably going to do it anyway because I am crazy excited. Mostly I just want to walk up and down the cobblestone streets and show you that yes, WE ARE MOVING SOMEWHERE WITH COBBLESTONE STREETS. And exposed brick. AND A MOTHER FUCKING WHITE PICKET FENCE. Soon. We priced them today.

This blog post was probably pointless. It appears that I ramble and type fast too. Hmph.