Poverty seriously sucks.
It seems to suck even harder when you work your butt off at a job everyone tells you you're good at and you still don't make enough to pay your bills.
I'll wake up tomorrow without bus fare to get to work or the two or three bucks I need to get a tube of denture adhesive that makes it possible to do little things like eat and talk.
Rent? Not even on the map at this point. When the phone or power goes, so does the blog, I guess. Peter's already been robbed to pay Paul - taking out the draw that paid last months rent meant my last paycheck didn't cover my overdraft, and the way charges pile up, the next one probably won't either.
Holidays? You've got to be kidding.
I've been broke before, and that's not so bad. This is different. There's a kind of hopelessness that's new to me.
Blegging doesn't seem to work. Working doesn't seem to work. I'm not particularly cut out for a life of crime, but it's something I've pondered. Maybe I'll hit the Lotto if I ever scare up the price of a ticket.
Sorry about the rant, but I'm pretty near wits end.
Or a bit past, maybe...