It has been one fucking hell of a month, and I am trying to remind myself of that so I stop collapsing in despair over how useless I am.

First, the weather: all through March it did the thing March in Wisconsin is known to do, going from nearly 70 degrees and gorgeous to fucking blizzards with no regard for things like "astronomical spring." I am, in fact, a houseplant with more complicated emotions, and my apartment gets very little natural light, and I am well known for finding the outdoors inconvenient at the best of times, so I have unsurprisingly been wilting.

Speaking of which, I finally turned down my lease renewal to move to a new place. I don't hate this place, and the increase is a lot but not technically more than I can afford, but it is on the opposite side of town from my friend (...I keep saying friends but I do only have one person I see regularly) and everywhere I want to go, and more importantly, it gets no natural light. Like, at all. It's incredibly depressing.

I did find a place that sounded too good to be true - $400 cheaper rent, the second floor of an old house (I love living in old houses, okay), within two blocks of the queer bookstore and no pet rent. And then I ran into the clause in the lease where the landlord can give you ten days to get rid of any pet they deem to be disruptive and I decided I'd better ask what "disruptive" meant. Turns out "likes to meow to let me know where she is" is too disruptive and also I'm an inconsiderate asshole for even looking at the apartment with a cat like that, so okay, too good to be true after all. I've settled on a place that's more expensive and a little further away (although still less than two miles and an easy bike away from the queer bookstore) but that I used to long to live in the last time I lived in Madison, more than a decade ago, when this complex was owned by a shitty landlord. So I'm feeling optimistic there, at least.

The more I think about it, the more I think I'd like to stop using the second bedroom as an "office" and start using it as a dedicated craft room. I don't have the kind of job or the kind of personality where sitting in one room for eight hours a day is productive, so the office winds up being both "the place I have to drag myself to first thing in the morning" and "the place where my computer and most of my toys are," which is not a fun combination. At the same time I'm feeling more and more overwhelmed sometimes by how much I'm relying on screens to occupy enough brain space to keep me from going insane; I'd love to go back to having one day a week where I just don't look at screens, although that sounds terrifying, and having a room with no computers in it would help. (I mean yes, my bedroom doesn't have any computers in it, unless you count the Chromecast, but I've gotten pretty good at the whole "the bedroom is for sleeping" sleep hygiene thing, and I don't want to break that down entirely.) So I'm doing my floorplan fiddling with that in mind: Craft room, maybe study, but not office.

(I'd also kind of like to replace my computer desk with a sit-stand desk and I'm really liking the idea of using something like that in the living room for a variety of purposes, but I haven't convinced myself enough yet to pull the trigger on the $800 purchase, so.)

At least I was doing that until yesterday when my boss sprang on us that we've all been reclassified as non-exempt, which technically is fine (we're support, but we're not the kind of support who can do anything useful when enough of the system goes down to qualify as an emergency) except this is the latest in a long series of decisions that seem determined to turn us into call center support, which is 1) not what I was hired to do, 2) not a job I would apply for today, and 3) not a job I would accept if offered. So job-hunting again, only this time the tech industry is in an even worse place than it was the last time a job drove me to madness, so no quitting without something else lined up.

In between all of this my parents moved out of my childhood home, FINALLY, and the week after I went down to visit them my cat got sick. Like, call the emergency vet at 11:30pm sick. (The emergency vet did not think she needed to go to an ER, and they were right, so that's a relief, but god.) Around $1,000 and a week later, it appears that she had an attack of IBD brought on by a change of food followed by the stress of me leaving her alone for ONE NIGHT. This is throwing a serious wrench into my plans to travel for ArCon in June, although at least by then I'll be close enough to have someone she knows who can look in on her a couple of times. And we will be sticking with the food that does not cause her intestinal distress, even if she doesn't seem to like it all that much. Sorry, hon, we all have to make sacrifices.

Anyway as I said on twitter, I really think there ought to be some kind of cosmic law where at least one of the trio of job, home, and health of your household should have to be stable at once, this is Too Much.