This is the second day here with below 0 temperatures. Needless to say we haven’t left the house. (except for when John took the trash out to the curb, just in case by some miracle they do decide to collect it in the morning) It is a little boring here with not much to do but the internet, and frustrating dealing with a stir crazy baby who very badly wants his daily bye bye, and doesn’t understand why he can’t have it.
I’m also frustrated with not being able to work on my novel. It isn’t a matter of lacking ideas this time, but more just not having quiet time to work on it before I’m too exhausted at night to think clearly. My computer unfortunately sits in the middle of the living room in front of the fireplace mantel, the only place in the whole apartment there was room to put it. It’s good that I have a desk, and a computer, but it makes it extremely difficult to work without distraction when I am stuck out here right in the middle of it all.
Before I would always write when my daughter was in school, and my desk was usually set up in my bedroom, or off in a quiet room away from the main room. I don’t work well with noise or with people moving around nearby, and especially don’t work well with people peering over my shoulder.
I miss having a laptop to work on, at least then I’d have the possibility of going in my room and shutting the door for awhile, even if trying to work from bed hurts my back something awful after awhile. Then again, I know what would happen. I’d get settled in, and finally be making progress, and BAM…they’d just follow me in there.
Sometimes I wonder how I am going to hold on until spring. Our search for a new apartment is still going dismally. Even applying anywhere is expensive, and we recently lost $120 in application fees only to be turned down yet again, even with my mother in law willing to co-sign.
Staying positive is really hard right now. It’s especially hard when you can’t even get something basic like an affordable place for your family to live. I worry about even the rent here going up to more than we can afford even with the roommate. My nerves are wound so tight I’m barely sleeping sometimes, and when I do I’m getting a lot of nightmares. I haven’t been able to eat properly in months now for a lot of the same reasons.
I wish I had a way of knowing that it would all be alright, but I don’t. I’m doing what I can but no one is going to beat a path to our door to help us. It’s no wonder that so many disabled people end up on the streets. If you are under 62 years old, there is no help with housing available, period, end of story. If the waiting list for help isn’t closed, it is over 10 years long.
It’s hard to write here without complaining, mainly because this is the only place in the world I have to vent.
I can’t wave a magic wand and make myself well, or John not deaf anymore, so what hope is there of our situation getting better short of a miracle? I wish I knew, I really wish I knew.