A Long Text-Filled Post about Woe

My excitement at finally arriving at what would become my new home was short lived. After unpacking my car I decided to drive to a nearby Wal-mart to buy some extra pillows and a few household necessities, including a shower curtain liner. The drive was short, but very stressful as I discovered a 16% hill directly behind my apartment, constant hills and curves, and that all the nearby Wal-marts were Neighborhood Markets and not Super Centers. I sat in the parking lot crying for a few minutes before calling Chris to rant. I’m pretty sure it went something like this: 

“I hate it here! All the roads are so curvy and hilly, you can never see where you’re going. I’m terrified someone will drift over the line and total my car. Did you know there are no Wal-Mart Super Centers here? No, they’re all those stupid grocery-only ones. WHERE DO PEOPLE BUY THINGS IF NOT WAL-MART? I JUST WANT A FUCKING SHOWER CURTAIN. Oh, and did you also know that apparently, Wendy’s varies their menu regionally? There are no Tuscan Chicken sandwiches west of the Mississippi. They have Bacon Pretzel Burgers instead. WHO THE FUCK WANTS THEIR BURGER ON A PRETZEL BUN? EVERYTHING IS SO STUPID.”

I was honestly sitting in a Wal-mart parking lot crying about shower curtain liners and chicken sandwiches. It’s amazing the things stress will do to a person. Like Michael Scott when he moved to Colorado, I was afraid of the little things: finding new radio stations, gas stations, and movie theaters, where I would shop and how I could get comfort food.

Chris suggested I take a bath instead and sort it out the next day, but having braved that drive, I was determined to get that for which I had come. I used Google Maps to discover I was quite near a shopping center with a Bed, Bath & Beyond, so I headed there. It was nearly impossible to find, tucked into a copse of trees behind a Men’s Warehouse. Before I found it I drove around a very uppity shopping mall, which only made me dislike the area more. Finally, I got my shower curtain liner and a few other things and headed home, stopping at the Wal-mart to get groceries on my way back. When I got to my apartment I realized I had forgotten shower curtain rings. I was defeated. I accepted that I would have to take a bath and get the rings later.

Later ended up being the same day I went to IKEA to spend the $80 in gift cards I had accumulated. Despite IKEA’s low prices, this wasn’t hard to do. I mostly bought things for the kitchen and my bathroom. Then I headed to the Target just down the street from IKEA and purchased a few household things like cleaning supplies and detergent. Oh, and those pesky shower curtain rings.

Before leaving Indiana I had been offered a new position within the company I already worked for, at one of the Portland locations. I accepted the job and was told I would be contacted later about the details. Upon arriving in Portland, I called my new manager to find out when my start date was, but it took me three days to reach her. When she finally answered, she told me she had received new information and that I did not actually have the job because she didn’t have the authority to hire me. She said I would need to go through an interview process with an outside company and that there were other candidates for the position. I was terrified. I asked her if I could get into the store and begin working flex hours until I could find something more permanent there. She said she would look into it.  My stress and panic level increased a thousand fold. When would I begin working? How would I pay my rent?

Outside my apartment I met my upstairs neighbor, Janet. She has a pet care business and mentioned that the park across the street has a great dog park in it. I’ve taken Winston there several times. After the fiasco with Banjo, he has been fine with all the dogs at the park. One day he and two other dogs chased each other in huge circles for fifteen minutes. Sometimes our trips to the park are cut short though, because Winston has grown very protective of me since the move. One day at the park he was running around playing with other dogs, until a lady walking the perimeter stopped to talk to the other dog owners nearby. Winston approached her, growling. She put the ball tosser she was carrying between him and herself and said, “HEY!” with a slight note of fear in her voice. I panicked, grabbed Winston, scolded him, and left.

Winston at the park, before he decided to humiliate me by misbehaving. 

I haven’t yet been able to afford to turn on internet service, so I’ve been going to the library or Starbucks to apply to jobs and such. (My lack of internet is a contributing factor to these entries being three weeks late.) My first Friday here I went to Starbucks around 9 in the morning. I was sitting outside looking for jobs on my computer, with Winston sitting at my feet. I had purposefully chosen a table far away from the others, so he would not have a chance to interact with other patrons. Unfortunately, I did not realize people used the path behind the tables, and as a lady was walking by Winston leaned out and grabbed a hold of her flowy skirt with his teeth. She took another step before realizing, at which point I was already scolding Winston. He dropped her skirt and I apologized repeatedly. She insisted it was no big deal, that she had four dogs at home and he probably just smelled them, but I was horrified. I put him in the car and tried to continue searching for jobs, but I was too upset and left soon after.

The first week and a half I was here my thoughts were constantly running in the same five-point track:

1. Winston’s behavior: Why was he doing this? I knew he was stressed, but he had never shown aggression toward anyone before. 
2. Worrying: What if something terrible happened to Winston or me? What if he really bit someone? What if I were in an accident? What if Winston was left in the apartment alone while I was taken to the hospital or dead? Who would be able to get him without him becoming aggressive? Everyone he loves and trusts lives two thousand miles away now. 
3. Things I miss about home: I had moved to a place without my grandparents’ house, my family, Steak & Shake, or any sense of familiarity. I saw a purple Breeze and strained to see if my sister was driving it. Realizing the ludicrousness of this, I began crying. I cried every night. I made a list of everything I miss and stared at it everyday.
4. The things I should fill this space with to make it my home: I thought about how I would decorate my room, which furniture I would buy, which mattress I want. I planned the details that would make this unfamiliar territory feel more like it was mine, more like I belonged here. 
5. How this isn’t my home and I should sell the few things I do own to make it easier to move again: What was the point in buying all that furniture if in two years I would be moving cross-country again? This place did not feel like my home, so what was the point in dressing it up to be?

And then from my musings about this not being home I would think about how Winston didn’t think so either, that’s why he was acting out, and I would begin the cycle over again. Those five points were nearly the only things I thought about. Now and then I would spare an hour or two for job applications or my future. I was miserable and I wanted to go home.

Soon I heard from a representative for the outside company who was supposed to interview me for the job I had mistakenly already been offered. She asked me to meet her later that week at Starbucks. When I arrived, prepared for an interview, she began explaining the position and the selling strategy. She was under the impression I was already hired. I explained the conversation between the manager and I. She continued as if I had the job, telling me to come to training the following Friday and commenting that she would attempt to get my hourly pay rate raised from my initial offer, as the circumstances of the job were not what my new manager had originally believed them to be.

It’s amazing how much better I felt about Portland, about my apartment, about my prospects once I knew I had at least a part-time job nailed down. I knew the next few months would be quite tight financially, but at least it seemed I wasn’t going to be thrown from my apartment.