The Bed That Broke the Camel's Back

Post Edit: If you've been reading for a while, you know that things have gone terribly wrong lately, and this is just another post to allow me to vent so that I don't yell at people in real life. If you're new here, I don't recommend continuing. This is not a good place to start. In general, if there's no pictures, you can bet I'm just venting.

I am not an optimist.

Years of life experience have instilled in me a sense of skepticism and cynicism so strong that it's taken over almost all my other personality traits. I don't always express it, but my inner dialog is generally so harsh that it makes Lewis Black sound like an effiminate camp counselor.

Regardless of all the hard won steeliness the years have granted me, I think back to myself a month ago, and I don't know how I could have let myself temporarily become that person.

For one glorious month I was sure everything would work out.

I was hopeful.

Optimistic even.

I was happy and looking forward to the future more than I had in years.

There was a letter sitting on Dr A's desk that essentially said "We want you as a resident."

I was looking for a new apartment in a new city.

Elsie was getting the cutest bedroom set you've ever seen.

I had the suitcases dusted and ready to go.

Then came March.

No Match.

The letter was a lie.

Instead of looking for a three bedroom in a new town, I have to look for someplace smaller and cheaper in my current town.

The suitcases went back into the attic.

Elsie still needed a big girl bed, and like with all the other false promises of February, she wouldn't be getting the cutest set you've ever seen. (Seriously, the first time I saw it, I thought, "Wow, that is literally the sweetest furniture a little girl could ask for." I was thrilled, delighted, and shocked when told that Elsie could just have it since the owner didn't like it anymore.

I couldn't believe it.

Seriously, I couldn't believe it- when I see a gift horse, I don't look it in the mouth. I put up my shield and wait for a Trojan army to attack.)

Even if we are having to downsize, Elsie is still getting too big for her crib.

My friend Kellie had offered me her son's old toddler bed, but I'd politely declined since I thought Elsie was all set in the bedding department.

I called Kellie to see if the offer was still good, but she'd taken it to the Salvation Army. So I drove down to the Salvation Army, hoping I could get it for a steal, but it was gone.

I spent the rest of the day trying to find Elsie furniture. Finally, I found something I could afford. It was ugly and damaged in a last-of-its-kind-floor-model kind of way, but I could give it a coat of paint and make it work. So I found a salesman.

Sold.

It was already sold, it just hadn't been picked up.

I went home, but Elsie was napping happily in the backseat, enjoying the cool spring air from the open windows, so I just sat in my driveway and sobbed.

Not for any reason in particular, but because I knew that someone would be filling the residency spot that I thought was Dr. A's. They would never appreciate it half as much as Dr A would. They couldn't possibly need it as much.

Because (*stomping my feet*) I don't wanna sell/giveaway all my stuff so I can squeeze into a tiny apartment once again.

Because "the cutest bedroom set you've ever seen" had been sold for a song to someone who will never appreciate it as much as I would have, without even giving me a heads up so I could buy it.

Because my bad luck precluded me from even buying ugly furniture.

Because I had allowed myself the luxury of optimism, only to have my hopes destroyed so thoroughly it shook my faith in all things I still had faith in.

Because the cruelest thing you can do to a hard-hearted girl is to give her hope, then take it away.