I've made it

Here I am.

Flying is brutal. Annoying and stressful and there should be a law implemented that prevents children from flying on red-eye flights.

I was placed in an aisle seat, which was good, except I was in between a family: the father was at the window, his young-ish (12, maybe?) daughter was in the middle, and then me, and across the aisle were mom and weird little brother. Needless to say, mom kept talking over me. And this stupid girl. We fought over the armrest. Seriously, this little girl kept shoving my arm off the armrest and then looking up at me and smirking. And, as some of you know, I have a thing about feet, and at one point she took off her shoes and socks, put her foot over so that the sole of her foot was pointed in my direction, and started rubbing her foot, sloughing off dead skin. I wanted to KILL HER.

I did get some sleep though. But the time difference killed me and I lost two hours of night.

The flight should have taken off at 12:40am, and was scheduled to arrive at 6am, with my connecting flight at 7:10am to Dallas. The flight didn't leave till 1:05. Needless to say, I nearly panicked. We arrived at 6:40. I was seated in row 20. Basically I had to grab my stuff and run through Houston-Bush International to get to the right gate and board on time. Luckily, I made it. They were at baggage claim waiting for me. My luggage all showed up fully in tact. We didn't get lost on the way to the apartment. Everything went well.

The apartment. My god, the apartment. He'd warned me that it would be "disorganized" but that just may be the biggest understatement of the year.

The first thing that hits you is the smell. It reeks. And then the sound--very faint buzzing. Try to turn on a light--nothing. Basically, for some bizarre reason, even though the electric bill was paid, the power was cut off. For three weeks. Meaning everything in the fridge was gone and absolutely disgusting. The bedroom is a mess. The living room is a mess. There's no where to step and you don't want to step anyway, because the smell makes you retch. Dishes piled in the sink, a full tray of french fries sititng there for three weeks gathering mold. G's mother steps outside and goes to the apartment's office, and they're working on bringing back the electricity. She also steps outside and calls a professional cleaning service. She swears up and down that there's no way in hell I'm staying there as it is, and I'm thrilled because it was vile. It was really discouraging.

But. The interview!

I showered, in the dark. Got dressed, in the dark. Got made up in the dark. Got driven to the interview 20 minutes early. Met everyone, interviewed, and I think it went well (touch wood). Everyone is friendly and funny and they seemed to like me. They had another interview after me at 1, but let's be real. If they really liked that person, they wouldn't have waited two weeks for me to get there to interview. I should hear back soon. HEALTH INSURANCE!

After the interview, we packed up all my things (again) and I tagged along with G's mom as she ran her errands.

I love her. Seriously. I love this woman. She's smart, she's funny, she's witty, she doesn't take any shit. She likes me because if she didn't, I'd know it. I love her. I met his sister too and tagged along with her as well, and she's great as well.

I was a bit discouraged after the flight and seeing the apartment but I think things are looking up. I'm exhausted and running on about 3 hours of sleep total since 4:30am Monday morning but that's okay. Tonight I will sleep.

My mom called and I talked to her. So that's okay. It's better like this I think. I'm away but they aren't fully cut off and so they can handle it better. They're sad but they're dealing. And I'm living my life. And this is how it should be.

Two weeks post-graduation and I've got my shit together. I am awesome.