Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, community, crowdfunding, depression, disability, domestic abuse, dreams, emergency, empath life, faith, friends, gratitude, grief, history, homelessness, life, nanowrimo, peace, PTSD, sexual assault, society, storage, transitions, urgent

3/23: Healing #PTSD #sexualassault #trigger and yes #crowdfunding, dammit

Yes, still need help. Auction is Thursday the 28th. I cannot give them partial payment. They won’t accept it this time. So I need to come up with 1400 for storage. I also may still need to pay my apartment management a chunk just under 500 as well. I’ll have to email the people who have been helping. There was some miscommunication there.


Healing: I’ve never hidden the fact that I have PTSD from sexual assault. I’ve also never hidden the fact that the asshole who raped me repeatedly has been cyberstalking me on and off for most of these years since. But I don’t think I’ve delved into the healing process and how I have viewed it. I use the Three Little Pigs as my analogy.

First Piggie: For several years, I was like that first pig, building my straw house, thinking I was this strong person. Only for him to come along, whether in the real world, online, or in nightmares, and blow the straw house down. I’d come out of my hiding and rebuild. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Second Piggie: Eventually, I morphed into the second piggie. I reinforced my stick house with straw, believing I was stronger than before. He’d once again come and blow the house down again… and again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Third Piggie: In 2013, after writing a particular character for NaNoWriMo that November, I transformed once again into the third pig. I had a brick house with reinforced walls and shatterproof windows and doors. My motto: Y’all can huff, and y’all can puff, but you AIN’T blowing this house down.

He stayed fairly quiet by then, but he has never been one to give up tormenting women. So I steeled myself against whatever he might do once he got bored again with his current victim.

My nightmares went from being victimized completely by him, feeling helpless, to being victimized but finding the strength to break away, and finally, to anger and a willingness to fight face to face if it came to that. And I might get injured even then, but still came out victorious. I hope you can also see the pattern there.

Right around the first of the year, I started using my salt bowl again and saying my own prayer. Asking God, Mother Nature, and those who came before (ancestors) to bring guidance as I and those around me move forward with our lives. To begin healing our pasts and finding wisdom and peace within and without. While I didn’t do this every night, I did do it several nights in a row over the last two and a half months.

It started to work. I’m an odd duck as I’m both believer and skeptic rolled into one. I put my faith out there and hope that maybe I’m heard, but I don’t expect anything major to happen.

But it is. I noticed recently that I haven’t had those nightmares of any kind, even the third one, in a few weeks now, maybe a month. I’d been so angry at myself, at the world, at people in general, and very definitely at him, that it finally emptied the reserves of anger. I had no more. Do I still get angry? Yes. Trust me, you would not want to read my mind when I’m on transit. But my mind isn’t engaged in anger toward him, in anger toward others like him. The nightmares have stopped. Yes, they could pick back up again. And he could still make contact, harassing me again. My guard isn’t down. But my mind isn’t stewing in fear and anger at him.

So, I’m no longer any of the piggies. Maybe a phoenix rising from the ashes of the first two houses. Keeping watch over the third until no longer needed. I don’t know, honestly. But I know something has shifted. I cannot forgive him for what he did. Nor can I forgive the others who made attempts at assault before him.

I know where I’ve been. I’m unsure of where I am now. And not one damn clue where I’m going. But I’m ready to truly heal and move on.

~A

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Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, community, creativity, crowdfunding, disability, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, homeless, homelessness, housing, job hunting, life, Personal, PTSD, semicolon, sexual assault, society, storage, urgent

2/27/19: Panic and Cry for Help #crowdfunding

TW/CW: Mention of rape and sexual assault.

Share if you’re willing. Thank you.

I’m sure folks are pretty sick of me asking for help. And, in all absolute honesty, I’m sick of asking. I’m a bumbling work in progress. I try to not compare myself to others, but that still happens. Especially when I think of my age. How can I be so fucked up that I can’t get my shit together and do all the adulting things I should be able to do at my age?

And then I think of my trauma. It’s no excuse, but it is a valid reason. No matter our age when traumatic shit happens, if we’re still in some stage of emotional development, we have the strong potential to be stunted in said emotional growth. It sucks. Sucks hard.

I dealt with emotional abuse growing up. And then the repeated rape and sexual assaults at 17, 19 and then 21/22. I use both terms since some were actual penetrative rape and others were not. I’ve been to the depths of hell in my life. And I’m still here. How, I don’t really know. How I got through all this crap is a mystery to me.

Being homeless hasn’t helped either. And now, I’m in this limbo. I’m housed, but I feel like I’m camping in my own apartment. Everything I own that helps define my identity is still locked away where I can’t get to it. Auction is next month (I thought it was this month, but no).

Because I no longer have my internship, I am behind on several bills. While I’m still doing Taskrabbit, I’ve had all of three tasks this month, and the money from them has kept my only cell phone working so I can continue getting hired for tasks, despite my numbers dropping (something that needs improvement).

I pay water/sewer/garbage to the apartment management company, separately from the rent, and I’m behind on it. $47 for December and now another $42 for January. Electric is also behind. If I can toss them $50 or so, that would appease them for now. I also have my PO Box. I’d prefer to keep it going, but if not, I’ll pick up my mail tomorrow and turn in the key. It was vital while I was homeless and I’d still prefer to have it for a few reasons, but I know that’s simply a preference.

And then storage. I owe roughly 1000-1100. On Friday, another 300-ish will be added on.

I am applying for jobs and continuing my classes. I need access to my things in storage so that I can sleep better, create more (which will feed my soul and be therapeutic), and ground myself in the things that matter to me in my life.

The last few years have been a vicious cycle. I’d like to stop running in circles and break that cycle. But I need help doing that.

Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, grief, health, insomnia, job hunting, life, poetry, PTSD, society, storage, transitions, urgent

2/7: Melancholy (#crowdfunding & #poetry)

So, now February storage rent has been tacked on. $1014 owed. And my internet at home is off (86 needed). Phone will come due soon as well. The phone that is, once again, access to my only livelihood.

******************

Sabotage.
On edge.
Permanently damaged goods.
Just too much pain.

Breathe.
Why now?
Make it stop.
Please help me survive.

Tired.
Always on.
Brain wired wrong.
I need a break.

Broken.
No matter.
Need to heal.
Do I fit anywhere?

********
I’m all melancholy right now. Frustration with my own health and job hunt. Trying to get through school as well. Today I finally got a formal diagnosis of PTSD and GAD. These explain a lot. I feel like things aren’t coming together like I, and those around me, had thought they would by now. Like I’m falling apart all over again. This is partly why I’ve been so quiet lately. Poetry just isn’t forming so much of late.

Bear with me as I fight to reclaim the ground I lost climbing out of my own personal abyss.

~A

Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, chronic pain, conformity, creativity, crowdfunding, disability, dreams, family, genealogy, history, individuality, job hunting, life, medical, peace, Personal, PTSD, research, society, storage, Switzerland, urgent

1/26: Musing on Life

Yes, still need help with less than a week left to keep storage and get it caught up. My finances have gone sideways and I just don’t have much of anything right now. I need $700-ish to finish catching it up.

MUSINGS: I look at how my week has gone and I realize that I definitely haven’t emotionally healed from being homeless and living in the shelter. I’m still angry, still off-kilter. Still frustrated. Still lost.

I lost my internship. That was my first step to getting back on my feet for good. My health is part of what got in the way. I know I can’t let it control my life, but it does. When issues pop up and mess with your schedule because they’re messing with your ability to function, shit goes sideways fast. The other thing that was cause was that they didn’t have enough work for me to keep me busy. I tend to get into a zone when I’m working on any specific task, so I was basically too efficient for my own damn good.

That second one could be seen as a PLUS in most cases, but much of the work they had me doing at first was backlogged data entry. Once I got it caught up, there wasn’t much left.

But the first one. That’s the one I need to work on. It affects my reliability. Which affects my employability.

But that’s only part of what’s eating at me. It certainly leads into why I’m feeling off-kilter.

I’m frustrated. I feel stuck. I can’t do my old fall-back jobs (retail) anymore due to my disabilities. But the rigidity of the majority of offices is problematic as well.

So, here I am feeling like there truly is nowhere I belong. And that makes me angry. At myself. And at the world. We have a society that makes things so rigid in terms of employability that many people just don’t fit. Some do change themselves to make themselves fit that structure, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not as much of a chameleon as I used to be.

Some of the others who don’t fit have found a niche all to themselves. They have drive and focus and probably a means of financial backup. Things I don’t really have so much of.

If you asked me what my ideal job is, it would be along these lines:

  • Work independently with some team work.
  • Research (non-medical), data, etc
  • Social Media as part of the work.
  • Flexible schedule
  • Reasonable pay with benefits.

Now, if you asked me about my dream job, those things all still very much apply, but with these added things:

  • Live in Switzerland with my cat(s) in the different villages.
  • Translating and digitizing genealogical records held in the parishes.

A bit much? Maybe. But it’s something that kind of needs to be done. As a descendant of Swiss gr-grandparents, the older records just aren’t online and accessible for those of us whose ancestors emigrated away from home. So, I’d love to live a slightly nomadic life there working in the different villages to make the older records accessible to those who don’t live there.

But I’m still sitting here, frustrated and angry. No way to clearly make that happen. Any of it. And I feel very unemployable right now. But I have to find a way to BE employable because not becoming homeless again depends on it.

I don’t think it’s too much to ask for to have a stable job, home, cats, food in the fridge, bills paid, and enough left over to save up for other things.

I’m still angry at the world from living at the shelter. I’ve managed to suppress it enough that I don’t lash out at strangers. I see people now for what they tend to be, even if it isn’t what they think they are. I see the selfishness and ego. I see the good in some, whether by actions or words, but so many others who just seem to forget that they’re in a shared society. That we all need to pitch in and work WITH each other instead of against each other.

More another time….

~A

Posted in anxiety, auction, bugaboos, C-PTSD, chronic pain, community, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, faith, friends, health, life, medical, society, storage

1/19: Whatever Comes

[Still need help to get storage finished and caught up. If I don’t get it caught up before the end of the month, it’ll go to auction and I get no more second chances. Help me get it caught up.]

Life is full of ups and downs and challenges and … you get the idea. I’ve been to Hell and back so many fucking times in my 46 years that it’s like a second home. I face the challenge, deal with it, move forward.

Today potentially presented a new challenge for me. I started to feel pain in my left armpit last night and it continued through today and is getting a bit worse. I’ve done nothing to the area so I checked it in the mirror for swelling. There is a bit of swelling, so off I went to Urgent Care.

*Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing yet.

I left shortly after with a scrip for Amoxicillin. A swollen lymph node is the culprit. Why it’s inflamed, we don’t know. I see the plastic surgeon who messed up my reduction surgery in 2015 this coming Friday. If the swelling and pain has not begun to subside by then, I’ll request a biopsy.

I’ll also go up and get a boob squish session (ahh, mammograms) this week as well. It’s been a bit over 2 years now. They told me to go for 3 years, but this is a special situation.

There are a handful of things a swollen LN can be. The next level up on fighting some random infection, RA (no other signs, though), Cancer, etc.

Yes, I said the C word. What if it happens to be that? Then I’ll fight to the end of my damn days. The end of the world. It’s one more challenge for me to face.

It could also be nothing major. Which would be nice for once. I mean, shit, I’ve had cellulitis, a heart condition, C-PTSD, anxiety, broken bones and sprains that made the doctors wonder if I’d broken anything. I’ve been homeless. I’ve been raped repeatedly.

I’m still here. I’m still fighting. It would be nice to get a break health-wise. But if not, okay. Bring it on. Never tell me something is impossible. Or, better yet, DO tell me that so I can prove you wrong. I take perverse pleasure in proving someone wrong about me.

This is life. As sucky as it can be, this is life. If things in your life aren’t challenging, then you aren’t pushing yourself to truly live. Granted, no one wants cancer. But challenges are a part of life.

~A

Posted in anxiety, artsy stuff, asexuality, auction, C-PTSD, community, conformity, convention, cosplay, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, domestic abuse, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, gender, history, homelessness, housing, individuality, life, medical, Personal, sexual assault, silliness, society, storage, urgent, writing

1/2/19: A Bit Different #crowdfunding

Last one for the night for crowdfunding. I’m exhausted from the emotional and physical havoc today was. Trying to not go into a full-on pity-party… so I’m going to take a cue from the image I chose and riff on that for the last of the night. Still sitting at $235 of $1467. Can anyone who sees this be part of a minor miracle and add to that low number?


I’ve always been kind of an “odd duck” well, rabbit. I’m still not entirely sure if identifying as Rabbit from Winnie-the-Pooh is a good thing or a bad one. But I’ve had several friends agree that I’m Rabbit. But I’ve always been different. Not so much in a neuro-atypical way, just different.

I was the kid who plucked dog and cat hairs from the family pets and looked at them under the 3x microscope. The one who “hunted the dragon” which was actually my dad working on the yard. The kid who was caught on film in rainbow striped tights and a slip (top, not skirt) and ballet shoes, using my dad’s drafting table after hours to doodle.

The teen who wore black leather lace up boots and a beret or real fedora -black with a grey band- and pink and blue shiny eye shadow. Drawing and dancing and singing and pretending I was famous. All while contemplating suicide because of emotional abuse.

I tried, in my 20’s, to go with the pack, to dress like others and fit in. But I realized as I inched closer to 30 that that wasn’t me. It wasn’t WHO or WHAT I was. Still not me now. I rejected the “American Dream” concept of a house in the ‘burbs with the white picket fence and all the other trappings.

My life has been filled with good and bad. The bad has had a tendency to overwhelm me and my life. From a sexually abusive relationship to almost dying at 35 from Cellulitis. To being homeless for most of the past two years. It hasn’t been easy, not by any means.

For labels: I’m an Androgynous Aromantic Asexual Furry Cosplayer who also happens to write SF/F… and, well, there probably are a few other things. I paint, I sew, I design floorplans of houses and costumes. I can draft my own patterns to some degree. I refer to myself as a Geek-of-all-Trades.

And just about everything that one with all those labels and hobbies (along with more I didn’t list) would have to help define who they are is locked away in the storage unit up for auction tomorrow at noon PST. My identity, my first fursuit, my costumes, my sewing machine, my music.

My everything.

I’m not perfect or beautiful or famous like I had dreamed of as a kid. I’m just this one person who is trying to pick my life back up after being on temporary hold for almost two years. I’m a person who stumbles and falls on my own feet while walking along the path of life. I think a lot of us do that. I just choose not to hide the bruises from my falls.

My life is in that storage unit. I can’t lose it. Not now when I’m finally back in my own place again.

~A

Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, community, crowdfunding, dreams, emergency, faith, friends, homelessness, housing, life, observations, Personal, poverty line, society, storage, transitions, urgent

1/2/19: Anxiety #crowdfunding

I’m not sure how else to get anyone’s attention. What can I do? Coming out of homelessness sucks when you know you have the tools to start rebuilding your life, but can’t access them for a lack of funds.

Trust me, I’d MUCH rather be blogging about normal topics. More poetry and stuff. But life can hand -no, not hand- HURL challenges at some people like it’s an every day thing. At least this is how it feels to me.

I do my best not to compare myself to others, but I do look around me at others in society. It does feel like some people got the Manual for Adulthood at an early age, and the rest of us are still trying to figure it all out.

I could totally blame the world, but some of it is on me. I made some choices that have scarred me for life. Abusive relationships and all. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make things better, but there is no magic wand. No easy fix. I know that. Probably better than most.

I just ask and hope that enough people or the right people… just people hear my request and can answer with the help I need. I need one more chance. I’m almost there.

~A

Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, cats, community, crowdfunding, dragon, emergency, faith, friends, life, PTSD, storage, urgent

12/29: …The Dragon Lyfe Chose Me (#crowdfunding and stuff)

Crowdfunding will be at the top of these posts. $1141 needed. One donation today so far of $25. Please feel free to share my posts. I do have a little in my checking, but the next task I have won’t be until Wednesday, which will be too late.

What would get saved: My mattress and other household things I haven’t had (or needed to while homeless) since March 2017. Furniture, music, movies… some could get replaced, but many of the things I own are out of print or old and not available anymore. I have a coffee table in there that is vintage Mid-Century Modern that’s been through a few re-stainings. Once I get it out, a friend and I are going to tackle returning it to its original color. I’ve had it 30 years. My mattress is a bit important at this point because I’ve been sleeping on the floor with little padding for over two months now and I’m feeling it in my injured back and all over.

Dragoning: I call myself a dragon because I like to collect things (working on managing it better), don’t like to socialize, and prefer the company of other creatures than humans (like my cat). My nickname for 20 years has been Penguin, so a Dragon named Penguin fits.

Life has always affected me in different ways. Recent stuff, such as being homeless, has made me grumpier than normal. My C-PTSD hasn’t helped.

Portia, my cat (in the image) has been my saving grace. She’s 13 now, but still loves to snuggle.

~A

Posted in anxiety, auction, C-PTSD, celiacs, chronic pain, community, cooking, crowdfunding, dragon, emergency, family, food, food cravings, friends, homeless, life, storage, urgent, weight loss

12/29: I Didn’t Choose The Dragon Lyfe… #crowdfunding

Standard Issue Request for Assistance: Time is running out for me to keep my belongings from auction on 1/3. I’m working that day, so I need to do it before then, but their office will be closed on the first. And any time after 6pm on 12/31 will result in January’s rent also tacked on. Right now I need $1141.

Organizing: I have “stuff” here in the apartment. Why? Because after we couldn’t access storage (or get anything more into the part we could access), we packed as much up as possible and friends stashed it. Most of that is back here in my possession now. Save for some at a friend’s business in her storage.

Once I have my bigger things (mattress, sewing basics, desk, TV, chair), I’ll be able to move everything to a smaller unit. Then I can take the items here in bins (which have been better for stashing and moving… especially with a cat who LOVES cardboard) and shove them into the smaller unit with everything else. This weekend, my plan is to work on the stuff here and organize and streamline contents of bins. Then get into storage next week and retrieve as much as I can on my own (it’s only two blocks away, so I can get things moved in small runs with my mini flatbed cart). Then move the remains into the smaller unit. That’s the plan. Then storage will be cheaper.

Dragon Lyfe: I know I’ve been negative and grumpy and bitchy. Especially in person. I lost my cool twice at the shelter. As in telling another resident to fuck off. Yeah. Did that. She was manipulative and abusive. She earned that shit. Anyway, I’m getting better, but still prone to sniping at people. I am better at keeping it quiet instead of in the face of the person.

I’m not a social creature. Never have been. I have days where I can be more social and hang out with people, even in small groups. But I tire easily and get grumpy pretty quickly. Some of that is from chronic pain, some is my PTSD, some is… well… me.

I mentioned in last night’s post about weight loss and now really getting serious about this. I didn’t bring up the food aspect. Do I love baking and have cravings for chocolate or chips? Yes, but the chocolate craving can usually be handled by having a few bags of Ghirardelli Milk Chocolate Chips in the fridge. Seriously, it’s good chocolate so that I can take out a handful, put the rest away, and that satisfies my craving. The only time there’s an exception is when I’m craving fresh Reeses PB Cups. There is no substitution. Thankfully my local Safeway goes through them enough that the boxes at the registers never have a chance to go stale.

For the most part, I eat moderately healthy. I did a food journal once for a dietitian and she said I eat healthier than most of her clients. I have Celiac’s and also have sensitivities to corn, soy, and now an allergy to cumin. This cuts out a LOT of things I love. I’m now honing the craft of making my own tortillas out of sweet potatoes. But food is clearly not enough to lose weight. I do my best, but I’m not getting anywhere. So, once things stabilize more financially (soon, I hope) I’m going to join the local LA Fitness. They have a lap pool as well as all the usual stuff. So machines and the backstroke are in my near future. I’ll do a full ‘weightloss only’ post with before pics at some point in the near future.

That’s all for now… ~A

Posted in auction, C-PTSD, chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, empath life, faith, family, friends, health, life, medical, Personal, poverty line, PTSD, society, storage, urgent

12/9: The week and being disabled… #crowdfunding

Warning: this may end up rambly and bizarre. And, FTR, I am in dire straits again with storage. I’m still sleeping on the floor (much to my poor back’s dismay… ouch). It’s set for auction later this month. Even with the couple of tasks I’ve had so far and the weekly small paychecks from my internship, I won’t have nearly enough (I also have my phone bill, internet bill, food, cat stuff like pet-specific CBD oil, and other things). 

That last post, about standing desks, oddly sucked a sizable chunk of my energy. Not like I had that much to begin with today. I have been battling something along the lines of a sinus infection for about 3 weeks now. Starting my internship in the middle of that didn’t help. But I needed to get that going. So I’m working two days a week at a local non-profit which is a very cool place to work, at least in my opinion.

I also have about everything down for school. I’m going back to PCC next month for some accounting and business classes. As I took Intro to Business some years back at PSU, I won’t need to take that again, so I can take an additional class. I’m thinking payroll accounting, as that’s a HUGE part of accounting and bookkeeping. 

In the middle of all of this, I’m facing my chronic pain and chronic fatigue. I’ve spent much of this weekend, into today, resting and/or sleeping. I had hoped to get some creative stuff done, but my energy flat-lined Friday afternoon after I got home from a furniture assembly task.

In all honesty, I have no idea how the hell I’m going to ever work full time. I really don’t. I’m playing phone tag with my disability attorney, and I’m frustrated as all hell. I wanted to get some cleaning and painting done this weekend and I’ve barely gotten anything done. I managed to clear some of the kitchen, but knowing the meager size of my kitchen, that isn’t saying much.  I think the biggest chore I was able to tackle this weekend was cleaning the litter boxes. 

After I was denied this summer from my disability hearing (which, according to my attorney was a “sure thing” by the way the judge was talking), I read the report. Basically, I didn’t appear “disabled enough.” So, because I’ve lived with my back injury for 29 years and it’s getting worse and I’ve figured out ways to work WITH it or AROUND it, I’m not disabled enough….. fffffuuuuuuuu…. *ahem*

Honestly, right now, I’d love to have them see how I’m living right now. i’m sleeping on the floor because I can’t afford to get my storage caught up long enough to get my mattress and furniture out, I can’t stand in the kitchen and do anything longer than 5-10 minutes at a time. Yes, that was today. I managed to get up, rinse off some dishes and put them in the small dishwasher and then run that. It’s done, but not emptied. Bast only knows when that will get emptied. I don’t have a partner or roommate to help me with things. Honestly, I don’t really want one, either one. Especially after spending the past year and a half living with other people -either in the shelter or with friends. 

On that note, there was a woman at the shelter who couldn’t FATHOM why someone would not want to live with other people. Why someone would WANT to be alone. What bugged me is that she kept saying she’s also an introvert, but this was one of the most social women on our floor at the shelter. She wasn’t loud, but she was always out in the community room cooking or chatting or… yeah. For me, add being an Empath who can’t block to save my sanity on top of the whole being an Introvert. I can “people” in very small doses. The more people I’m around or interact with, such as on transit or at conventions, the shorter that amount of time ends up being. My PTSD doesn’t help either. I love hugging people, but have pulled away from being social in part because hugs make me a bit less comfortable now. And yet, if I’m greeting a friend or saying goodbye to them, I’m usually the one who holds my arms open to hug them. I’m a walking contradiction. I hate people but love hugging. Go figure.

Now, one may wonder why I did a post on standing desks. Well, a few reasons. I want one to help with my back. If I can go from sitting to standing and back when I need to for reducing the stiffness, and thus pain, in my back and legs, the better off I’ll be. Also, I started my little quest by looking at drafters chairs, you know… the ones that go up higher, for using possibly in the kitchen. This would possibly help my longevity in the kitchen. The way my apartment is, the desk would be right next to the kitchen, so a taller chair to go back and forth (which can be lowered down as needed) would be awesome. It also means I’d have a place to put said chair when it isn’t needed in the kitchen. This place is not that big. Seriously. Everything needs to serve more than one purpose or space. Chairs included. Hell, my bed will have storage (once I can afford to get the frame I want), my desk will be for both computers and the sewing and embroidery machines, and the shelving I want to use for my TV stand will also house my record collection, music and DVD’s and some books. The bench I want to put at the foot of the bed (if there’s room), will have books, shoes and be a place I can sit briefly to put said shoes ON. 

I’ve planned this apartment out to every damn detail. I just don’t have the money to execute my plans. First, I need to get storage settled and accessible. It’s three months behind. October sucked for work, so I couldn’t pay for storage… and then, as it does, it snowballed out of control. So…. halp?

~A