32 Pennies In A Ragu Jar

“Got 32 pennies in a Rago jar, that’s all I got to my name…”

Technically, I don’t have a Rago jar and I only have about 27 pennies but sentiment is the same. I have $2.39 cents on my debit card and about half a gallon of gas in my car. I am also completely OUT of cat food. Since I stood up to my dad about his bullying me because I can’t make anyone HIRE me, he has told me to fuck off on all fronts that might involve him being anything but a dick. Even if it punishes my cats. I thought maybe I could surreptitiously get some out of their outdoor stash while they were gone, then say later, hey, I got some food for the cats…But that was empty. So…

What to do. The minimart sells a six dollar bag of Tidy Cat but not even a can of Nine Lives and I have hungry cats. I can’t even get to town to pawn anything. And my wonderful father is digging in his heels all because I pointed out the obvious, that I can’t force someone to give me a job. All I can do is keep applying, go to interviews when called, and keep showing an interest. I can’t bloody well stalk them. My nephew took their advice about calling the hiring managers when he was looking for work and they actually yelled at him for bugging them and said if he was hired, they’d have called. But dad and stepmonster are living in the 50’s when being such blatantly in your face was a positive thing. To them my lack of stalkerish behavior is a slacker trait.

This is adding to my situational depression, of course. I guess I can feed the cats mac and cheese, it is the only thing we have like a case of to eat for the next week.

I am cramping off and on. It is humid as fuck. My kid is home for the first full day and it was all I could do to get her to stop running in and out and mom mom mom mommy mom mom…I am ready to bloody scream.

I am hormonal as hell and not sure whether to be happy just to spite everyone or to be teary eyed just cos I feel like it every half hour or so.

I am ready for bed. I thought yesterday was an oddity, that a half ass night’s sleep would help and it did. I was up at 5:30 a.m. though so it’s making for a super long, super sweaty day. Not even being able to run to town where my sister would give me some cat food and toilet paper cos I can’t put gas in the car…I’d like to say it was lack of planning on my part but you can’t have extra when you got more going out than coming in, it’s not possible. And meanwhile, everyone is beating up on me for not being hireable but no one is doing a damn thing to hold the donor accountable for his child. Hard not to feel bullied when even the lawyer gives zero fucks and my dad can’t be arsed to even LOAN me twenty bucks til next Friday. I am trying, ffs.

I am trying to see the positive here but there’s nothing happy about hungry kitties.

I am missing the days when things got like this and I could just drop out til the check came in by popping my prescribed coma pills.

One thing that’s better today is the anxiety level. It’s lower, but that could be the xanax and buspar I took this morning when I felt my skin starting to crawl off my bones.

I looked into some work from home jobs that I am actually qualified for and ya know what? None of my tech is current enough, I can’t afford the necessary software, and I don’t have a quiet place to work because a train goes by 15 times a day and drowns out everything inside.

Optimism is overrated and positivity is not catching on.

I wish it was but reality is what it is and mine…blows a herd of goats. Ask me when the horror-mones aren’t rioting in the street and I can at least feed my cats and get to 15 miles to town and back.

Being stranded and failing kitty cats does not bring out the best in me.


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