The Story of My Life Thus Far

Prone and in bed with an aching back and a particularly distasteful wash in my mouth, I still stand proud looking at the room that Sarahann and I have arranged for ourselves in the apartment. There is so much room for activities. 

It’s a work in progress, but we kill doubters who say such things. Dont be a dier kind of guyer, all right, sir or madame?

She lent me her mini crates in exchange for the milk crates I left at home for my books and DVDs. It looks neat above my closet.

Sarah’s let go of a myriad of her art to make room for my so in debt to her ass – I revel in her pieces beside my books.

This is my first apartment on my own – well, however alone one could be when living with three women – and I am scared, aimless, drifting, and away from the world that I knew.

It’s great.

This is my Dr. Seuss mugg – I stole it from my mom in Nevada. Anything to feel like home, says Sarah.

Sarah just handed me a cup of coffee, readying me for our day of errands and hopeful fortune while she types up an email or two from the foot of our bed where we have set up the computer. She reads her reply to me. That is the one thing that she asks for my help with. I am rather useless in most other respects, so it is rather nice.

I don’t have work today. I don’t get to find out until 6:00 PM the day before if I work the morning after. So weird. I’ve worked one day at this moving company and I have an interview tomorrow for a theater. I swear they will make me work on that day and I’ll be out of one job with regular hours. At least I’m getting hours at all so soon.

That’s how I’m gonna look at it.

Sarah got herself a job at a really nice place, starting Monday. I’m so proud of her. I can see her stress fading away, although it isn’t altogether dissipated as of yet. She’ll get there. We have all the time in the world. Sarahann finally has a walkable path before her. Stupid fucking Vegas. Don’t live there, folks. It’s more of a grandiose and blurred visit than a take up residence and start a career kind of place. But Google will already tell you that and more anyhow.

Well, I’m off to lend a hand to my woman in anyway that I can. Donations and drop offs galore, plus a haircut for this curly headed mofo and perhaps a membership to a gym because I am looking as scrawny as a zombie in need of a noggin to pop his teeth in. Time to down that cup of joe and get up, run, and go.

Laters.

Look at her go – resume time – a workaholic no longer without work. Go BABE GO!

-T.D.

P.S. Sent my Query letters to three agents now. I have a month or two to hear back. I should be writing the next story (or continuing what I’ve already written – two stories seem likely to become the next contenders) when I find a flow to follow here in Denton. It’s taking a while, but I’ll get that groove soon enough. Everything is happening so fast and I just would like a response even if it’s a criticism, it’d be appreciated. Ugh haha. 

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