Last notice? When the miso-glazed fuck were the first ones? I thought, taking the notice out of my door and calling my boss about the unexpected day I'd need off. The date came and went, with a lot of hangups on organization—theirs, not mine. It took an hour of work to do what should have taken maybe twenty minutes.
The verdict: starting in March, I will have a lower rent than I paid all of last year.
But this month I still pay that teeth-itchingly high $200 for this tiny thing, meaning I still have to stretch and scrape and and unashamedly shake the bucket to get by in this economy.
THANKS, TRUMP. I HATE YOU.
Yes that was out of nowhere but it had to be said. It'll probably be said a lot. I'm doing a lot of self-care between my activism to make sure I don't go starkers in this new world of lies, propaganda, and gaslighting. I have an idle game on my phone where I feed and pet adorable hamsters that get into shenanigans. Two of them are lesbians. (Lesbihams?) Two of them seem to be starting a polyamorous thing. (Polyhamorous?)
Some are dignified. Some are...not.
(Follow me on Instagram for more hamham shenanigans and my dumb face, btw)
I'm playing a browser game where you raise dragons and humanity is APPARENTLY NO MORE #misandry
When I get meager little tips I splurge on customizations for them and make them pretty. You can have as big or as small a collection of dragons as you want. At the same time this one is inspiring my writing. (there are dragons, but humans also exist but the dragons don't trust the humans, and a dragon falls for a human man because OF COURSE HE DOES and it's totally fluffy romance.)
(this isn't the dragon in the story, it's one of my game dragons, isn't she pretty?)
These tiny little things keep me from ripping my own head off these days. That, and tea. I need more tea. Good tea.