L'esprit de l'escalier

It's all about the timing.

Location: Memphis, Tennessee, United States

I'd rather be somewhere else most of the time and I'm a huge practitioner of staircase wit.



So, I shared my jail story and got all freaked out, not necessarily over nothing, but the darkness is lifting. We're selling things on Ebay and people are actually buying them, so that's good. I got paid and the money we got out of my stock has taken over the rest. So, we're good and didn't get too far behind to render it impossible for us to come back up for air.

I didn't get the Tech Writer job I was wanting, but it's okay. In my letter, the hiring manager asked me to call him so we could discuss what I might do instead. He thought my resume was good, so he wanted to give me a contact name of someone in another department more suited to my skills. It's with Corporate Publishing and it sounds great. So, I'll email that person on Monday and we'll see where that goes.

Thursday night was very sad. I was all crying and depressed while David tried to make me laugh or just hugged me while I shook, but it was just a moment. I needed to get it all out is all. Everyone at work knows I'm trying to get a job and they're all so curious and sweet, I feel I have to keep up a positive attitude around them. Constantly. When I finally came home I was so grateful that I could just feel like shit and wallow in my own self-pity. Sometimes you just need that, I guess, because I really do feel much better. I'm refocused and ready to go.

We went to some thrift stores this weekend for more Ebay fodder and I found the most amazing night gown. I'm not normally a night gown person, but this one is so beautiful I decided to become one. It's Christian Dior and 100 percent silk and goes so delicately down to just above my ankles that even I feel like a hottie. I'm wearing it right now in fact, and it's 1:40 in the afternoon. What? David went to the store and told me to keep it on, I think he wants to do something to me when he gets back. Seriously, it is transforming. I also found a librarian dress and those of you who don't know me, that is a good thing. I love it, it might be the only thing that gets me out of this night gown today. Yesterday I was wearing it and David said I looked like a 60 year old black woman who just got back from church. I was at the sink without the sweater over it and some crazy jewelry. I was all, and that's a bad thing? I don't know what it is about clothes, but I like dresses and things that make me look like I'm from another world altogether.

I can't believe I just wrote about my new night gown on the internet. Who cares?? Oh well. Why don't you just not worry about it because I'm not deleting it just to be spiteful.


Broke Broke Broke Broke Broke

Now's where I start to freak out about money. There was an NSF charge taken out of the account today for something last week, and Earthlink has taken to automatically taking my bill out without my knowledge so whenever that Geico bill comes out, set for today or tomorrow, there will totally not be enough in the account to cover it. And more NSF fees will be incurred. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck. I can't just say Fuck all day and it's not helping, but FUCK. I work. I WORK. I should not have to worry about this shit.

David's putting stuff on
  • Ebay
  • , please check it out, you might want something. There's some decent stuff, we're going to put on an antique Christmas tree tonight.

    I also got some money out of my stock, but I don't know when that's going to be sent, so I don't know if it'll cover the geico payment. This is so boring to outsiders, I know, and I apologize for boring you with this, but I can't focus. I try so hard to keep things under control and one little thing gets behind and it all goes to shit. It's so hard to get back out. And then I'm working to pay bullshit instead of things I actually want to pay for. NSF fees have kicked my ass before and I am so scared of them. They always seem to be one step ahead of me. Besides, I'm like a fucking retard when it comes to money.

    I bounced so many checks once that when I didn't pay them all, plus the bounced check fees, I was actually arrested and taken to jail. Yes, you read that right. I know you don't know me, but I'm a good girl. I don't get arrested. But I did and I spent a weekend crying my eyes out in the women's penitentiary. I had to call my parents to post my bail because the jail folks made a mistake and didn't let me out on my own recognizance like they said they were going to do, since I didn't have any prior arrests or anything. So, I called my parents and had to see them through the little window in all my orange glory and they told me to come home. They actually gave me an ultimatum. They said either I leave David and come home with them, or they couldn't help me. I told them no.

    I. told. them. no.

    It was surreal. I was sitting in jail, wearing all orange and some plastic wicker slippers, talking to my parents through a hole in some glass, with an offer to get out and I said no on principle. Turns out they were bluffing and they got me out anyway, but fuck them for giving me an ultimatum thinking I was too weak to stand up to them. Thinking I was too scared to resist. Nope. I would've sat my ass there all week to prove to them I wasn't their scared little girl anymore. In fact, I never was and it's about time they learn. I guess they did, because they've never gone there again. I think my dad might have even gained some respect for me, in a weird way.

    When I was finally allowed to leave, my mother was nowhere to be found. I tried calling her and she wasn't home, I went to where she was supposed to pick me up and waited, she wasn't there. I called David, the line was busy. I swear to god, he was on the internet. Now I know he wasn't for most of the time I was there, but when he was told my mother was picking me up and taking care of everything, he really couldn't do anything but wait. So, when I called him and the line was busy I started walking. I walked in the fucking Memphis cold rain from downtown to midtown after crying my eyes out in front of all the prostitutes asking me if I was okay all weekend. I walked home pissed at the world, never more un-scared in my life. If I could deal with squatting nude in front of some hardass prison guard, I could deal with anything. The guy who had transported us all from the downtown holding cell to the women's penal farm drove by and recognized me walking and picked me up. He said he could get in trouble so not to tell anyone, but he couldn't just let me walk. He took me home and he was so nice and he said take care of yourself. I remember him trying to figure out if this was my boyfriend's fault, he was all, Does he take care of you? And I was all, I take care of him. I don't need to be taken care of (clearly), and he was all, whatever, try to keep yourself out of trouble.

    So, I have. And I've done a pretty good job, I think. But moments like this when the money's tight and we start falling behind always reminds me of that whole experience and I get a little sick inside. Something reacts and I worry that the police are going to nonchalantly knock on my door and take me downtown, promising it won't take long. Everything'll be alright.


    early morning poem from wife to husband

    sleepy sad thumbs up
    foggy in and out dreams
    making you think things
    you can't change fix at the moment
    bringing you down
    sleeping it off isn't
    just for hangovers
    but maybe you were so
    maybe it is

    the best part of your day is scheduled
    for about 9pm this sunday
    you'll see my used-to-be-oily face
    smiling at you
    from the inside.
    don't worry about the other
    that never matters as much as it seems
    trust me on that

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