Slashed Tires, Dead Batteries, And Other Reasons The Road To Progress Doesn’t Get Driven On

These days, my feeling like I can’t get moving is completely justified. Every time I feel like I’m doing something to move forward and make progress, I’m almost immediately proven wrong. “Frustrating” doesn’t touch this. “Depressing” comes closer, but still isn’t quite there. The only analogy I can find is more akin to the title. I’m looking for the number to scrap the whole damn thing, because every time I fix one thing, another thing breaks down, and for all the time, money, and effort I’ve put into this vehicle I keep swearing will move the way a life does, I’m now tapped for resources and left with a lemon that isn’t going anywhere.

Except the scrap heap.

Let’s go through the diagnostic, shall we?

Beginning with the two big issues, namely a place of my own that my daughter and I can call home, and a vehicle. While I will forever be grateful to my friend who has been amazing to me and the kid, I am personally beginning to feel like I have to stop taking up his space, and get something for us to build on. While attainable by any normal human, being the mutant I am, this suddenly becomes a monumental feat. I have an opportunity to rent a home from a longtime friend and acquaintance, but the catch is that I would have to find someone to move in with us. Seemed like a small thing, until it became apparent that every semi-stable individual I approached wasn’t going to work for one reason or another. I had people offer, only to withdraw. I had people unable to give me any semblance of a straight answer. I had people whose hands were tied. In the end, it looks like I have to let the idea of this go.
With my car gone for a while now, I’ve been looking into getting a new one. This is not something I can do without saving up at least a few thousand dollars, which, again, seems reasonable to your everyday meat sack.

But not your humble narrator.

With a dip in income due to a decrease in hours, and followed quickly by me vacating the position I was in for personal reasons I will shorten to a disagreement about whether or not it’s okay to berate your employees, call them derogatory things, scold them using dead relatives to make a point, and generally comment poorly on their life outside of work, this suddenly became an impossibility.

While I may have felt vindicated about leaving that job, and even walked smack dab into the serendipitous arms of a new job immediately, this silver lining would quickly be revealed as razor wire last night when my phone, which I shamefully admit has become the centerpiece of my meager existence, took its last breath, and died before my very eyes.

The resources to replace it simply aren’t there.

To make matters worse, with it being so integrated with my life, on top of being the product of a certain fruit-based company, I have to replace it with a device of the same variety. There is no temporary solution within the grasp of another type of phone.

I’ve learned to not ask “What else?” because the universe always has a way to show you what the fuck else it can do.

So here I am with no way to communicate with my almost certain new employer, no way to get anywhere, in a space hinging on the charitable nature of a good friend, with my resources dwindling, and my daughter in tow.

This is what losing the race before leaving the starting line feels like.

I’m selling this piece of shit for parts.

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