Looking like an ingrate

Oh, dear. This one's going to be a complainer.

I've been cleaning for what feels like 48 hours straight. I'm resenting cleaning, I'm resenting how often my family wants to visit, particularly my in-laws. I'm resenting resembling a housewife in every single way. I'm pissed at myself for not writing the way I should be, not being who I should be.

I'm tormented by the fact that we rented a huge house for more money than we could afford. It was a stupid decision, but the best stupid decision we could have made at the time with Finn, the barkiest dog in the universe. We didn't know that our road with Finn was ending before we even got here, so we worked with what we had. Now, whenever I'm out, I look at apartment buildings and wonder how much for a one bedroom.

I worry about money all the time. I think it's because we have none. We're living on about 150 a week, which includes groceries. It is more than many people have, I know. But without cell phones, cable, car payments, only once a month gas purchases, no heat or ac being used, many pasta dinners and free dvd's from the library, I feel like I am doing my absolute best to make this wished-for life work. Except I'm not. Because I'm not writing. And if I'm not writing, I need to get a job. For financial breathing room, for sanity.

I will give myself next week to get back on the writing wagon. No excuses. We have guests coming next weekend, too, but when you have stay-over guests twice a month, you can't devote this much time to cleaning and preparing. So the house will be a little dirty.

That's another money worry. Everyone takes their vacation here, but we can't afford to go on vacation twice a month. My guests next week are in for a long, boring time.

I hate to look poor. I know this is something that came out of growing up poor and going to a school that decidedly wasn't. I wanted to so much to fit in, to look right. I worked at McDonald's for school clothes money and never invited anyone over. I never mentioned welfare or medicaid, paying for my own contacts so I wouldn't have to wear medicaid glasses anymore. Anyone who has had to wear medicaid glasses feels me on this one. Nothing screams poor like medicaid glasses.

I will write every morning next week. I will chill out about looking poor. I will not offer to pay for things because I can't. And if the writing thing does not start happening again, I will get a job and shut the eff up.

I love having a secret blog. It squeezed it right out of me, and I don't even care about looking like an ingrate.