Breathing...breathing.

Again with the franticness and the money worries. I got to work Tuesday, only to discover (having left my cell phone there) that my boss had called to tell me to stay home, the weather was horrendous and nobody was going to be shopping. (Being from the more humid East Coast, it hadn't occurred to me that a single rainy day would slow people down at all...) So I closed the shop right back up, and headed to her place to talk about hours.

Now, I'm not making enough. And there's no way she's ever going to be able to pay me enough, not out of this little store. I love working for Linette, love the store, if I could share expenses with anyone I'd probably be okay but, well, I can't.

I tried to tell her this, but I know how very much she depends on me, and the best I could say was that I needed to be working full-time to survive. At which point she promptly told me that she could give me those hours, and thanked me (again) for being so dependable.

I left feeling worse instead of better. Much, much worse. And yesterday was no better; I waffled between searching for a job now (and possibly leaving her in the lurch for the summer) and waiting until the end of summer (which would leave me further in debt, though less so than just working as little as I've been). I wrote down the four hundred dollars Linette had given me the day before, and realized that she'd overpaid me. Not something that'll upset her; I'll just work until I make it up. Which is a good thing, because if I'd given her the extra money back right away, I wasn't going to be able to make the rent.

I determined to talk to her, tell her I needed to look for another job, then wussed out, then decided again, and then when she came in to relieve me there were customers and I couldn't. As I'd planned to stop at the other place where my stuff is being consigned, I left instead of waiting.

See, in addition to the bookmarks and the bath salts I'm also going to be selling some of my clothing there. Some of it is stuff that I would have taken to the Salvation Army otherwise, and that doesn't bother me, but the thought of selling clothing that I like and just don't wear too often had me feeling horrendously desperate. I didn't want to look at the bags in the back seat of the car.

I went to Wal-Mart first, looking for something to hold up the little sign I made for the bookmarks. I didn't know how to describe the thing I was looking for, and realized after wandering randomly for about fifteen minutes that if I tried to actually ask someone, I was going to burst into tears, or possibly throw up. That was that; I aborted the shopping trip, put off the visit to the Glass Rose until the next day, went home and ate popcorn until I felt better.

I went over to Tim and Ray's, and Tim and I made dinner. We watched V for Vendetta over dinner (rather a horrifying experience, given current events) and I hung out for a while. The movie, frighteningly enough, was a nice break from reality, but it came flooding back once it was over. I dragged myself home, tired and stressed but determined that the next day I'd at least do something about the money problem.

That's when the good news started. Sitting in front of my door was a bag of clothing. I'm assuming it was from Dwen, who's given me castoffs before. Two long crushed-velvet skirts, one back, one deep maroon; a long comfy light-blue pyjama-type shirt that I could probably also get away with wearing with jeans; and another top, not my style, but something I could happily sell for a couple bucks. I pulled everything out of the bag and tried it all on, even the sweater I won't keep. And just smiled a lot.

While reading my email I got word that a local SCA member is giving away a bunch of plants she doesn't have room for, so today I went to pick up two nice big tomato plants. A totally random check for ten dollars showed up in the mail, a refund for I'm-not-sure-what from my old doctor back in Pennsylvania.

While at the Glass Rose to drop off more bookmarks and the clothing, the lady who runs the place told me that she'll have a check for me next week, and that her son in California is interested in buying some of my bookmarks as well. I checked in across the street at another place I had clothing for sale, and they'll have six dollars for me next week.

I stopped at the bank to deposit money; with the random check, just enough to cover the rent. I took a deep breath and told myself that at least it was enough. Then off to work.

I got here and Linette handed me a five dollar bill; someone had bought three of my bath teas. Ten minutes later Tal came over with a ten from one of the bookmarks I've been making for him. And about an hour after that, a lady came in in a screaming hurry to buy gifts for her kids' three teachers, and left with bath salts for each of them. Eighteen bucks.

Thirty-three dollars today off of things I've made.

I did talk to Linette, and told her I need health insurance. She can't give me that, I know, and while she's not thrilled, she isn't upset, either. I told her I'd work for her while I'm looking for something else, and do the occasional evening or weekend once I find another job. So now I can look for a job and not feel like I'm letting her down.

Perhaps I'll train Ray how to run the place, so she has someone to replace me with...

In any case, I get the clue: things will be all right. Just keep working at it.