I'm Melting

This fat girl isn't cut out for 90 degree temperatures.

My house doesn't have central air, just small units in certain rooms.

Cooking makes the house hotter.

I'm tired. I'm miserable and I can't even go for my walks..cos well...I don't wish to die.

And now I have a clog in my bathroom tub.

Please just shoot me.

I've Lost Myself

In the course of this move, I've managed to lose almost everything I loved.

My bedroom, (ha ha ha) is no bedroom, as it has no bed, and all my books (well almost all of them) and some of my CDs are piled on the floor. (With nowhere to go) I haven't had much of a chance in the 4-ish weeks that we've lived there to even try to organize and declutter my space.

Nope. I have no place to call my own in this house.

None.

I'm frustrated.

I'm angry.

I want to go home.

At least on 11th ST, I had a place to call my own.

Here, I have nothing, except bills, and I truly believe that no one cares.

I can't get to my computer, because there's no place for it. Where there is space for it...there's no three pronged outlets.

I know I'm whining, but dammit, I thought moving would make things easier or better for me.

Frankly, I think it has done the opposite and it is making me very very crabby.