Or so I keep telling myself.
I was let go from my job in early September, working for a company I dearly loved.
Then again, I was working a thankless and unchallenging job and was trying to escape from it by any means possible. And I have the opportunity to work for the company in the future, and I might be able to get writing credits somehow between now and then.
Additionally, they liquidated all my vacation time into pay so I had enough to pay my rent for October.
I started working for an insurance company as a temp a few weeks ago. It’s even quite a benevolent insurance company, and my coworkers are sweet and cheerful and accomodating.
Which is pretty good, considering.
Saturday, I borrowed money from my grandmother for my trip to Canada at the end of the month. I was going to just scrap the idea until I got a job that offered me as much overtime as I could stand (music to my ears!). Round trip ticket, purchased.
Tuesday, I was driving home from a friend’s and got hit in a hit and run accident. I didn’t get the license plate or see the driver; it was late at night and the numbers and letters just slid straight out of my brain. I didn’t have insurance on my car, so my beautiful Focus is now not unfixable but too expensive to fix.
Luckily, we found a $2000 Saturn with low mileage. I haven’t even taken delivery yet and I’ve made sure it’s insured.
When I got my ticket I called the airline to make sure – “yes, all you need is your driver’s license.” Today I was doing early check-in and they said “no, you really should bring a certified copy of your birth certificate.” Luckily my parents live nearby and they have one, I’ve seen it, Dad thinks he knows where it is, it’s just. yet. another. thing.
And I’m feeling tense and sick and nauseous and I can’t manage to relax.
But I have a roof over my head and a ride to work and home from my dad, which means I get to spend time with him. And we all went to see Serenity (again for me) last night, and it was good.
Still, I think I’m due for things to go right.