I did not have a good night last night. I took two Tylenol as my hands were bothering me, and invariably when I take Tylenol before bed, my dreams are more vivid than they usually are. They were unsettling dreams. I dreamed I was on holiday with my family in Liverpool (of all places), we had gotten separated somehow, and I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel we were staying at. Classic anxiety dream. Then I dreamed my brother and I were stuck at school in a driving rainstorm. He had gotten a ride home but there wasn’t room in the car for me. I tried to call my mom on this incredibly strange cell phone to let her know I was stuck at school, but this cell phone looked more like an arcane calculator with all kinds of useless keys, and the number keys were not marked, were oddly shaped and were out of numerical order. I kept trying to input her phone number, but the numbers kept coming out wrong and I had to keep backing up and trying again. In the meantime, it was pouring rain and dark. Another classic anxiety dream.
It’s not like I don’t have causes for anxiety. Still haven’t heard about my unemployment claim. Still haven’t found a job. I played phone tag with the social services lady all last week. I might actually have to work at the Whataburger until I can find an MT job I can do, or find out if I can get money to take the coding test and do coding (which would fall under the heading of job retraining) or get signed up for rent assistance so I could live on my pension, or find some other source of supplemental income. It’s not like I don’t have job skills. There just aren’t jobs.
I’ve got bookcases full of books, nice, hardbound books in like new condition. I’ve thought about maybe signing on with Amazon.com to sell my books through them. They get a percentage of the sales and the customer pays shipping, which gets passed through to me. I’d have to inventory the books and put the information into my computer, and I’d have to pay for packaging material. Still, I’ve got books that would sell. I need to investigate that. A safe bet that I would get more money selling them through Amazon, than I would trying to sell them at a garage sale.
And I do need to downsize. At some point in the not too distant future, we are going to lose my dad. He’s slipping away, millimeters at a time, slowly but surely. And when that happens, I’ll be moving in with my mom, which will solve the money problem as their house is paid for, and we would split the bills. But that means I’ll have to get rid of a lot of things — furniture, knick knacks, — and I’ll no doubt have to put things in storage, like my blue willow dishes and other such, and some of my furniture that I don’t want to give up. I suspect I’m going to have to learn how to sell things on Ebay. And there is a garage sale or two in the very near future. Just thinking about it all makes me tired.