"When is it My Turn" Syndrome of the Heart

I picked up my paycheck today from The Place That Shall Not Be Named, and it was less than I expected. Much less. I can honestly say I was expecting almost twice what I actually got. Screwed. Mainly, I forgot I had to take a day off for a dentist appointment, and so my estimates included a day's worth of work that wasn't there. That, and the fact that I got paid a lot less per hour than expected. They pump this place up talking commission here and there, and I was always seeming to be ahead of others work-wise, and yet no, not even $8 per hour! Bah.

This causes some panic in the world when we have yet to pay last month's rent.

Housemate #1 was undergoing some panic attacks when he heard about the less-than-hearty check. So was I, but I'm always pretty calm and cool under pressure. "It'll work out, it always does." Yes, but you can't always say that. Freakin optimist. Who do I think I am? We ran some calculations, keeping tallies based on our own accounts and needed payments. It got ugly. Numbers flew. (Words I kept to myself.)

Housemate #2 is new, he's lived here since the second of the month. He arrived haphazardly after being kicked out of a friend's apartment due to "issues" with the friend's female roommate. Ahem. He had no job, soon to, and I knew he cleaned when he got bored, which I thought of as a definite plus. And he had money to buy food, and we were down to bare minimum. The first night he was here we went grocery shopping. The second day the two housemates rearranged the living room to better accomodate two bigs dogs, two big guys and myself. We found a decent recliner near the dumpster (diving: it's a sport) and all was well.

As it stands today, Housemate #2 has contributed a lot of soda, most cases of which were gone within 3 days due to him drinking can after can, and only drinking soda. He has straightened a few times, nothing significant, and has certainly never cleaned the kitchen, bathroom, or even taken out the garbage. (At the previous apartment of the friend, he cleaned every room, including their bedrooms. Not that I want him to clean my bedroom, but I'd like to not be the only one cleaning, especially when he causes so much mess...) He leaves candy and food wrappers everywhere, a habit he picked up from Housemate #1. Fruit juice has been spilled on my computer desk, the over-the-side spillage of which was not cleaned up (I don't think my $75 surge protector should be able to pour out stale fruitjuice), and deposited I'm not sure what on my monitor (sneeze? soup?). And now he wants to quit his job, working conveniently at the same place the same hours and days as Housemate #1, which means no having to bus around or walk to work. Easy peasy. Why he all of a sudden thinks he can quit his job (quit?!) I don't understand. "I have stuff I need to take care of." Shit man, so do I! He goes off and buys shoes with his paycheck and yet here I am with pants that are way too big to hug my juicy ass, not nearly enough fancy underwear, and a cell phone bill with overage charges. No fair. Pout.

But hopefully Housemate #1 will be able to keep him in check. Logic in any form should prevail. But I know that I'm not going to continue cooking tasty meals for and cleaning up after somebody that contributes nothing but Tekken 4 tournaments and occasional weed money (borrowed from his dad as gas money to begin with). Ay. Perhaps I just feel the stress that money can create in a normal person. The unfairness of a bank's concept of having a fee for overwithdrawing an account (no logic! greed!).

P.S. on 10-19-04: try listening to Poe's "Terrible Thought" to get a sense of things.