Money Matters

This week has been a bit more than all over the place.

I’ve driven 970 kilometres in one week. That’s 30 kilometres below my goal. So that was a fail.

I discovered that my job is not sales. I’m actually providing a health service – I was told that if I can’t find a need for our products, I should not sell. I like that.

I also made my first sale. Which was awesome. And then I went door knocking and discovered a rather good friend lived two doors away. So we went out to dinner. I didn’t get much door-knocking done that night.

I had someone try sell me a car, disturbed a couple having sex, met the scariest friendly man, found some gorgeous cleavage and crawled through spider webs. I won an argument with a dog, had the sweetest lady slam a door in my face by mistake, had someone shout “Fuck off!” without moving from their chair, and got confused when someone answered my knock from the deck upstairs.

It was so much fun.

I also moved out of the place I was house-sitting and back home, where the most common question is “When are you moving out?”. Comforting.

I’ve slept a total of 26 hours since Monday, and I’m finding that suits me fine. I would have slept less, but two of those nights I’ve spent with Someone. I love waking up next to Her so much, that I cuddle up to Her and go back to sleep. I wish we’d spend more time sorting out where our relationship is going.

My writing is being abused. I’m editing “Porsching” and writing “Habits of a Ticketless Speedster” whilst I wait for someone to pay for “Killer Queen”. I’m very far off my goals and need to get those on track – otherwise I have nothing to show for my words. I need to balance my time better.

I’ve been to the gym three times. It must be unusual to see a fat guy sweating – every girl has to come look. Some of them are actually pretty. It’s a little embarrassing to be panting away, all the water I’ve drunk sweating away whilst opposite me a pretty girl effortlessly exercises her biceps with a weight setting I can’t manage. Smiling works wonders in those situations.

I’d just like to point out – in case you missed it – that I’ve been to the gym. Three times. In a week. I hate the gym. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I like destressing there. I like the simplistic routine – bike, rowing maching, whatever-those-weight-machines-are-collectively-called, bike, shower, home.I like the friendliness of the staff. I like the cleanliness and the emptiness.

Things are starting to look up.

For too long, I’ve felt as though I’m walking on a path that keeps giving way. Crawling more than walking, my support structure limited to just me.

I’m walking now – slowly, to be sure. I’ve found a beam with it’s own fragile support, and some guides to show me where to go. Of course, life is more complicated than a single path or beam. I still put my foot down on a tile and it cracks and gives way, leaving me strandedly dangling. But there’s a path nearby – a support of sorts – and it gives me hope. It’s not very reliable – money never is – but hopefully I can use it build more support. Hopefully, it’ll keep me going just long enough for me to find more to stand on.

And if it doesn’t?

Well, I’ve always wanted to go base jumping. I think I’ll still be ok.

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