I used to be such an organized person. Not annoyingly, anal-retentively organized, but organized enough that I could avoid having major utilities shut off once a week.
For the second time in two weeks, I’m without one of these major utilities. And I’m sitting at home, awaiting the gasman’s arrival. Oklahoma Natural Gas’s decision to turn off my gas this week — after I assumed I was on autopay and happy little dollars had been trickling out of my account straight into the warm, cozy bellies of ONG’s banks — has proved chilly. The entire state seems to be in some sort of cold wave, odd for March, when Oklahoma starts getting its storm on. Instead, it’s in the low 40s and I haven’t had access to heat in two days. I really, really want to shower. I really would like for these folks to show up so I could stop gritting my teeth. They give you a nice 12-hour window for when they’ll show up. I’ve been waiting nearly three hours and I HAVE to go to work soon. Looks like I might be going to work filthy.
Last week, my electricity was shut off. That was totally my fault, but still, it was no fun.
I have a new job at the newspaper, and I’m terrified of screwing up. I’m not comfortable in it yet by any means, and my new boss (who is also my old boss) is someone I want to keep happy. I respect him to the point that he’s like Lt. Dan, and I “sure don’t wanna let him down.” I’m thrilled to have him as a supervisor again, but I feel like I’m seeking a perfection I just haven’t attained yet.
Maybe sitting around in a cold-ass house, stinky from lack of showering, is a lesson. It is the first full day of Lent. Maybe God wants me to get all my sacrificing out of the way in one fell swoop.
Doubtful. I’m still giving up fast food except one day a week.
Which brings me to Point 2: I had to break my Lenten vow already because I don’t have natural gas to heat my food. And all my food requires it. Because I’m now working 14-hour days instead of 12, I haven’t had time (or cash) to go to the grocery store. All I have at home is stuff that has to be cooked. So last night, I ate at Sonic. SONIC. Not just fast-food, but the worst fast-food imaginable. I’m not saying it wasn’t delicious, though, because it was. I nearly licked the container.
I just need a new routine to go ahead and get started. And I need this new routine to include a complete understanding of how bills work, and how if you don’t pay them, shit gets shut off.
I swear I used to have this down. And I also attest that I’m not huffing paint, gas, canned air or anything like that. Right now, all I’m huffing is shame. Cold, cold shame.
The Garish Chicken 