I am the worst “blogger” ever, if you can call me that. I want to be a blogger, but I fail at keeping up with it. My apologies.
I figured out how to get trash picked up at my duplex. After a week of calling different companies and being put on hold for forever (6 minutes, I don’t have much time ya’ll.) I finally came in to touch with a company whose cheerful representative is now my new BFF -shout out to a chick names Stephanie-
I was so excited to wake up to the sound at 6 am to my trash being picked up. Success! I waived at the garbage men but I don’t think they noticed me. It was still dark. It’s the little things.
My job. Well, I am being told I am doing well, I feel like I am doing well (I am a banker) but I fail to see much credit to my “doing well” hint hint pay raise hint hint struggle bus over here. But I have a plan and I will work on that.
Annoyed. I have found myself annoyed by so many things. I don’t know if it is my age, my lack of interest in the politics going on in the world, or just my personality. But literally everything is annoying me lately and I wish I wasn’t this annoyed.
I got a hair cut. Like a LOT of hair gone. Like from butt to shoulder gone. RIP hair but I had to do it. I needed something different and my hair was just so unhealthy and thing. Forever getting use to how much shampoo I DON’T need in the shower.
My cats are heathens. Bandit seems to find joy in destroying any type of chord. Have replaced 4 phone charges in the last 6 months. Peace out wallet.
I left my comfort zone. I drove to VA to visit my sister who lives with our cousins (about a 5 hr drive) and it was the best thing ever. Although Hurricane Matthew decided to rain a little on my way there, but the weekend ended up being nice and sunny. Lovely as ever, I over compensated on the sweaters for sure.
I am currently working on not caring so much what people think of me. It’s hard when I’m in a job position where what people think of me matters a lot, but I find myself going home and dwelling on every little comment made to me. It could just be me at this age of 21 and sensitive to everything, or I could just be paranoid.