Tomorrow marks the first of my few days off before classes start and the shit hits the fan — that is, our manager, who generally works 40-45 hours per week, goes on maternity leave for 6 or more weeks. The amount of time I work isn’t supposed to increase, but it probably will. That is, assuming business picks up at the coffeeshop, or it doesn’t pick up and someone gets laid off. When I counted down the drawers this morning, the total net sales we’d done was well over half what we normally do on a weekday morning. I believe we could probably get by with only two people, as opposed to three. When I first started working there we had four people every morning, it was so busy.
So, on top of worrying about how much I’m working, how many classes I’m taking and if I can focus enough to do well in them, I’m now beginning to worry about how long I might have a job. I think I’ve said this before, and it sounds terrible, but there at least five other people who would get let go before it ever came down to me getting laid off, so I shouldn’t worry too much. But that makes me worry about these people, whether they’ll get let go if business continues to slump, and how much extra I would have to do to keep my job.
This makes our decision to apply for a mortgage all that much more silly. Our lease is up here at the end of May and it seems like the time we should start to consider the “next step.” Do we stay here for one more year? Do we try to get approved for a mortgage and find a place? Do we just try to find a single-family home in a decent area so the soon-to-be screaming baby doesn’t bother our neighbors?
We figured the first thing to do would be to see if we could even get approved. Most likely, we’ll hear back from the bank with a “Sorry, but …” Our combined debt-to-income ratio is kind of out of control right now, because we both have so much in student loans. Some people like to say, “That stuff doesn’t matter.” But I make so little and he has so many small lines of credit that I could see the bank laughing. But, who knows? We could turn it all around in three months by just paying everything down.
Back to my time off, though. I’m sick already. It seems like I can’t take off any time without being sick. I barfed on New Year’s Eve — all the benefits of partying without the necessity of actually drinking any alcohol. But that wasn’t too bad; mostly a lot of dry-heaving. Sunday night, however, I puked up everything I’d eaten the whole day. I felt so awful. Prior to all of that, I’d had a headache for about two weeks straight. Today I feel nauseous, dizzy, and headachey. So, yay.
Part of it is because I didn’t sleep well last night. I was having these weird, bad dreams. In the first part, when I woke up around 11pm, I had been watching a group of children who were, apparently, summoning Satan. I don’t know know if they were doing it on purpose or by accident, but when Satan appeared, he was some sort of innocuous-looking cartoon character: a snowman or marshmallow man or something. The kids were happy; I was horrified. After falling back to sleep, I kept dreaming about doing mountains of paperwork to buy a house, trying to find a house, finding out something is wrong with a house we like, you name it. I’d wake up once every 30-60 minutes or so, and would immediately pick up my dream wherever it had left off before.