life, the universe, and donna

So this is the first time I’ve lived alone since I was … 21 or 22. I’ve always had roommates, and preferred it that way. But, this time around, I decided to try it out and be just me & the dog (actually, this was my intention just shy of three years ago as well, but due to the difficulty of finding suitable rentals that accept dogs in an area I actually want to live in… I ended up moving in with Nick. Heh.)

For the most part, it’s pretty good. I occasionally miss human contact, especially on days like today when my plans get cancelled and my only excursion into the outside world is a 3 hour walk with the dog. I like actual face to face contact. I’ve always been totally fine with getting “me time” with other people in the room, although I’m perfectly comfortable with being by myself as well. Still, without Justice, I don’t think I would like living alone much. Social media helps a lot, too — I’m in fairly constant contact with other people, via MSN, twitter, Warcraft, text messaging, whatever. So, I don’t feel super disconnected from the real world unless I want to be. Which is good.

However, there are some problems that living alone makes it difficult to conquer. For one, I am a terrible arachnophobic. This was a huge problem the last time I lived alone, as it was in a basement suite, and basement suites occasionally get spiders. And for whatever reason, mine would always pop up when I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I had standard shitty rental suite berber carpet that was a sort of mottled beige colour, with darker specks all throughout… and without glasses, my vision is pretty crap. So, I’d spot something on the carpet and not be able to tell if it was a spider or just the ugly carpet. Effing spiders.

Still, once I was able to positively identify the eight legged monster, I could take care of it. Mostly by vacuuming it up and then getting rid of the bag as fast as humanly possible without thinking about it too much, even if the bag was totally empty because WHAT IF IT CAME BACK OUT AND WANTED REVENGE? Aaah.

What, me, ridiculous? Never!

So, I’m super proud of myself, because I have managed to handle the spider issue with remarkable ease. I am no longer in a basement suite, so there are less spiders, but I do have a worm compost which does have a variety of non-worm critters involved in the composting. I’m totally okay with most of those. Most bugs don’t bother me much. It was, before I got it, stored outside for a while, and so does have a variety of Critters. (Yes, they are very good at staying contained to the bin — it’s got ample food, dirt, moisture, and company, there’s no reason for them to leave the bin.)

Including some spiders.

I do not like spiders.

I DO NOT LIKE SPIDERS.

And I REALLY do not like to share my home with them. Seriously, it’s a bachelor suite, there ain’t room for me AND spiders. Worse, I don’t currently have a standard vacuum cleaner — I have a roomba. No hose, no aiming. This will not work. So the fact that I have actually been managing to kill them by hand with a bit of paper towel is a freaking miracle. We won’t talk about how wasteful I feel in the sheer volume of paper towel I need to make sure there are sufficient layers between me and the spider before I can kill it, but I’m sorry environment: My phobia comes first. My paper towels are, at least, made from recycled paper.

However, I have come across one simple problem that I don’t yet have a solution for: I am 5’3″ on a good hair day. I have some shelves that are rather high up. The only chairs I have are either on wheels are unsuitable for dragging around the place. I find myself rather stymied that I have some soap molds at the back of the top shelf in my closet… and for the life of me, I can’t get to them. Damn.

I suppose the solution is some sort of a foot stool, but I wanted to make soap NOW. How the heck am I supposed to get at the molds without killing myself?

I have weird feet.

It’s true, I even say so in most of my profiles. I also have great eyes, but this is about my feet.

I wear a size 5 1/2 wide. At stores where they store shoes “by size”, I tend to be in the kids section. I’ve been known to wear boys skate shoes — I wear a 4 in boys skate shoes. I have teeny tiny little duck feet. I end up wearing a six most of the time because of the Wideness, most smaller shoes aren’t wide enough.

Point being: Shoes never fit me right.

I’ve owned two pairs of shoes ever that didn’t give me blisters. A pair of hiking boots from MEC and the aforementioned boys skate shoes. So, that’s fine, I know full well that new shoes mean I have to get blisters while I break them in, and then after a week or two, they’re wonderful and I happily wear them for years.

So in early October, my mother tried to buy me new boots. We found a pair of gorgeous and ridiculously overpriced boots at a boutiqe in Fort Langley. One of them fit beautifully, and the other… didn’t. At all. Another girl in the store with similar sized feet tried them on, and one was definitely missized. Well poop. Worse, they were unable to secure another pair in the same size. So, no adorable boots.

But I still needed boots, so I tried to go boot shopping. Nothing. I even went to Fluevog, but their boots without heels don’t look right on my tiny tiny feet. I found a pair of riding style boots at Ecco, but … they just weren’t quite right. So I gave up, and shelved it. A few weeks later, I found a pair of really cute boots at the Aldo liquidation store on Granville, but didn’t have the cash at the time.

And then there was that awful End of October bullshit that sort of put … everything on hold. Stupid end of October.

So I haven’t thought about it for the last two months. And then the other day, I found myself at the same shoe store, and …

They were on sale! A mere $55! And they fit!

Well, mostly. Sure enough, I did have to break them in, get that blister. I had a lunch date yesterday, and ended up walking… probably around 2 km. This was a BAD IDEA. My feet are so freaking sore I can’t think. My blisters have blisters.

I’d say that this is the price I pay for fashion, but quite frankly this is the price I pay for wanting my feet to have some form of covering on them to protect them from the elements. Stupid feet.

I’m not doing a New Years recap, because I think if I had to go over everything, I’d stay home all night and drink that bottle of gin I just bought until I threw up everything I’ve ever eaten since the third grade.

So, in the effort of Looking Forward, I present to you my Top Ten (also, the only ten) New Years Resolutions.

Resolution #1: Move on.

Resolution #2: Stop beating myself up for not having moved on yet. It’s okay. It’s only been two months. This is the person I thought I was going to spend the next 50-odd years with, two months is nothing.

Resolution #3: Walk more. I already walk an awful lot, but I have this extremely long walk coming up, so I need to do more.

Resolution #4: Find motivation. This may be connected to resolution #1.

Resolution #5: Stop doing things that make me unhappy. This seems like such a nobrainer, and yet I have an incredibly hard time with it.

Resolution #6: Eat more vegetables.

Resolution #7: Continue to love job. Also, get on as a regular employee so that I can get benefits without spending gobs of money on them.

Resolution #8: Be a better friend. I’m in what douchebags refer to as a “selfish phase” right now.

Resolution #9: Don’t say things that make you sound like a douchebag.

Resolution #10: Have a better 2011 than 2010. This should be easy, it couldn’t possibly have been much worse.

Happy New Year. Let’s start this whole bullshit “life” thing over again, hey?

I think we’re going with “Walter”.

Nobody said I was clever. Also, Walter fits. And now I can say I live with Justice & Walter, and people will think I smuggled an old man into my apartment and seriously Donna? Ewww.

It’s okay. The dog likes him.

In other news, Justice would like to wish you a Merry Fucking Christmas:

So, here’s the state of the union: this still sucks.

First an update on the good stuff: Work is going well. I like my coworkers, I like the job, and aside from short turn shifts (ie, getting off work at 2330 then having to start at 0730 the next morning) I’m really enjoying it.

And, I’ve met some really awesome people recently (both at work and not), which is good. Hooray for new friends! And hooray for previous friends that I’m getting to know better! So, that’s going well.

And my dog? My dog is fabulous. Completely lacking in empathy, and generally avoids me when I want to cuddle, and then when I’m busy doing things thinks that’s the best time to be in my face, but fabulous nonetheless. Also, doesn’t kick up TOO much fuss when I enforce cuddles on my time.

And despite that…

…well, fucking hell. I don’t understand how, but this is actually getting worse, rather than better. I’m losing interest in things that I love doing, have virtually no motivation, am not eating much, and don’t give a flying fuck about Christmas, so … yeah, that’s a good indication that I’m pretty depressed.

Today was supposed to be Christmas shopping, and yet I’m still sitting at my desk in my pajamas. It’s 1:30, Donna. GET UP.

And it REALLY doesn’t help that when I get like this, I REALLY don’t like myself. Seriously, this self pity bullshit? It’s bullshit. That’s why they call it bullshit!

Anyway. Something clearly needs to change. I have no idea what, but … this obviously isn’t working for me.

But in the meantime, if anyone finds my motivation, let me know. I miss it.