This has not been my best month ever.
We lost a great roommate (High School Friend) to graduate school in another state, and attempted to fill her spot. Without friends available to do so, we searched on Craigslist with semi-disastrous results (Treacherous Wench backed out the day before she was supposed to move in). So we gambled and assumed that Diminutive Roommate’s old college roomie would be able to live with us if we could find a place that suited our needs (i.e. a bigger room for her). Luckily she has decided to live with us (yay!). Two Saturdays in a row we hunted for apartments all day long, driving around the Westside in my little Fiat, hoping to find an owner or manager desperate enough to offer us a place on the spot because, let’s face it, it was the 20th, and we were running out of time.
We found a place we all loved, they even put in new carpets! But it took us a while to get our paperwork in. Finally, with everything properly submitted, a couple nail-biting days passed before we heard that my parents will have to cosign the least to make up for my apparently questionable, previously immaculate credit.
Furious at this blatantly false accusation, I rushed home from Karate Job to check my credit score. Three days ago, it dropped 55 points. Fifty-five points. In one day. HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN. Apparently when you get a new car and put in two applications for apartments, your credit gets checked all the fucking time. I also paid one bill late last week (through no fault of my own THANKS FOR NOTHING, GAP). Five hard inquiries within a month later, my credit score could not stand the constant verification, and collapsed under the weight of the absurd credit rating system to which it is a tiny, starved, brainless slave.
Now, at age 27, I have to call up my folks and ask them to vouch for me financially, after I just bought the first brand new car my family has ever owned, impressing everyone with my financial prowess. It’s infuriating, and frankly humiliating.
Now begins the moving process, when I spend all my free time attempting to fit my life into too few boxes in too little time. Which means… no more World of Warcraft until after the move. DAMMIT, UNIVERSE, I NEED MY FIX.
Not my best month ever.
P.S. Amidst all this, I’m happy about something: moving is a cleansing process which, while difficult, is always good. It’s an exercise that needed to happen. I have too much stuff. I need to shed all that extra fur and let my summer coat come out. You should see my summer coat. Gorgeous.