Feb. 17th, 2017

mousme: A text icon in pale blue that reads Winter is Coming (Winter is Coming)
Anxiety seems to come in waves these days. I'll be floating along, no problem, until a swell catches me off-guard, and I just have to ride it until it crests and breaks again, like the ocean against a beach. It's nothing that's preventing me from existing, but last weekend was spent sleeping a maximum of four hours at a stretch before I'd wake with my heart racing too fast for me to be able to get back to sleep. It's not as bad now, but I've had a few oh-God-I'm-going-to-be-homeless! waves of anxiety today. I'm worried that no one will want to take me as a tenant because of the number of pets I have combined with my landlady's accusations (because taking the two together, her accusations sound all too plausible to a prospective landlord). Rationally, I know that I still have two and a half months to find a place, and that I will more than likely find someone willing to rent to me. My anxiety, on the other hand, is busy berating me for being an irresponsible fuckwit who is going to make her pets homeless (I can sleep in my car, but my pets won't all fit in there).

I did get an appointment for a viewing of the co-op housing I found the other day. I'll be going next Thursday, and so far the lady I've spoken to by phone and email seems really nice and we seem to have a good vibe together. I'm cautiously optimistic for now, and I really, really hope that A) I like the place and B) they accept my application. Honestly, this would be the best possible outcome right now. I will readily admit that a lot of this is the anxiety talking, but that's because I really, but really hate uncertainty. Yes, I am super privileged in that I have come to expect a certain amount of reliability from my day-to-day existence, but still! I would like to know that I will have somewhere to go in ten weeks' time and that I won't have to shell out hundreds of dollars to both store my furniture and board my pets. Boarding them would cost me in the neighbourhood of $100 a day, by the most conservative of calculations, so I'd be completely broke within a couple of weeks, tops, unless I actually lived in my car. Which, I don't know, I suppose I could manage that for a little while, but I drive a Yaris, and I feel like it would be cramped in there. :P

Anyway, anxiety-induced nightmare scenarios of living out of my car aside, I'm trying to not be horribly melodramatic about the whole affair and, uh, kind of failing at it. I'm sure I'll eventually find a ladder and get over myself, have no fear.

I haven't heard back from any of the other places I've queried, and many of them don't have phone numbers, just web forms. As much as I hate using the telephone, I'd love to feel as if my queries aren't just falling into the void. 


mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Default)

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