Our House F-ing Sucks
So our house has been on the market for about 300 years now and there's no buyer in sight. I would eventually like to leave this silicone boob infested cest pool known as San Diego and move back to a simpler lifestyle.
I'm over spending my life on an interstate moving 5 miles per hour or at a dead stop with my palms sweating and my anxiety level at an all time high because I'm going to be late (when a reasonable person would deduce that leaving one hour in advance would be plenty of time). Back and forth, to and from work I spend anywhere from 45 minutes to 1 and a half hours driving 18 miles.
I'm over spending $16 for a pitcher of Miller Lite and no, this is not a joke. I would never joke about the golden piss. The other night, Donny, myself and my friend Heather went to happy hour. Well, there was absolutely nothing happy about it. Heather and I ordered the $3 happy hour house wine. "That's actually not bad" was the exact thought that went through my head, that is until I saw the size of the wine glass (shot glass would have been a more accurate description). One gulp and I was heading out the door to the liquor store.
I'm over spending an arm and a leg a month for our mortgage payment. By the way, our house is 1,000 square feet. And now that I think about it, it's not even a house, but a condo and technically, we don't actually own the land. So basically, we own the air inbetween the walls. Hmmm, I'm spending a shit load for air?
I know that if we ever actually got offered good jobs in Montana, I would probably shit my pants, but I miss the little things that made life easier. I know this is an atypical post for me, but I'm hungover and feeling a little sentimental.
I'm over spending my life on an interstate moving 5 miles per hour or at a dead stop with my palms sweating and my anxiety level at an all time high because I'm going to be late (when a reasonable person would deduce that leaving one hour in advance would be plenty of time). Back and forth, to and from work I spend anywhere from 45 minutes to 1 and a half hours driving 18 miles.
I'm over spending $16 for a pitcher of Miller Lite and no, this is not a joke. I would never joke about the golden piss. The other night, Donny, myself and my friend Heather went to happy hour. Well, there was absolutely nothing happy about it. Heather and I ordered the $3 happy hour house wine. "That's actually not bad" was the exact thought that went through my head, that is until I saw the size of the wine glass (shot glass would have been a more accurate description). One gulp and I was heading out the door to the liquor store.
I'm over spending an arm and a leg a month for our mortgage payment. By the way, our house is 1,000 square feet. And now that I think about it, it's not even a house, but a condo and technically, we don't actually own the land. So basically, we own the air inbetween the walls. Hmmm, I'm spending a shit load for air?
I know that if we ever actually got offered good jobs in Montana, I would probably shit my pants, but I miss the little things that made life easier. I know this is an atypical post for me, but I'm hungover and feeling a little sentimental.
posted by Martha | 10:16 AM
1 Comments:
This is really sad, but I wish I was hungover! :) Good luck selling the condo, you will find some sucker to help you out. And I know you are going to make a ton of money once it does sell..if we make 60,000 in 9 months in IDAHO, you guys are going to be sitting pretty. I think that you are at the point that I was when I decided that we had to move if we wanted to stay married. Fucking Socal traffic is enough to make the visual image of blowing your brains out all over the passenger seat seem not that bad
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