Although most things are going pretty well for Hashtag Baseball Boy here, I’ve got one very big problem: the rent.
Y’all know that in September someone – I still don’t know who – paid it for me. That meant that I had money left over from September to help pay for October’s rent. This month the story was different, since I only had what I made in October to pay for November. I came out a little short, even with all the hours I’m clocking for the Sharpmans.
Sandy even extended my extra 30 minutes to an extra hour on the days Matteo’s in the gym. So I’m there for 3 hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays and 2 hours on Mondays and Fridays. That makes 10 hours a week. Then I have the 90 minute lesson with Noah and the 90 and 60 minute lessons with Cody. That’s 14 hours of work a week, and, even though I’m paid well for what I do, that doesn’t quite make enough money to cover my rent…especially as I have to spend money on cereal and ramen noodles. (Joyce is still making sure I don’t die of malnutrition by having me over there like 4 nights a week. Keaton was getting us Wingstop the nights we were watching the World Series too, so people are helping me out.)
I won’t give y’all all the math…what it boiled down to was that I had to ask Dad for a couple hundred dollars. He gave me the money, honestly with no questions asked, but I’m gonna be 28 on Sunday and I don’t want to have to be borrowing money from my parents. (On top of that I had to ask Keaton for 20 bucks for gas when I was all tapped out at the end of the month and we still had to drive to Joyce’s for Halloween.) The fact is that I’m almost able to afford rent…it’s close…like the election lol…but I can’t quite do it.
And, honestly, I’d like it if I had the money to afford things like eggs and biscuits and beer again.
I was real depressed on Monday when I had to give Juan Diego the check for the rent I scrounged together. I haven’t heard a word from Mr. Balsam in nearly 2 months, and I have the feeling that no news is bad news in his case. I haven’t worked since the beginning of April. That makes 7 months. Maybe I’m wrong even to be thinking that there’s a job waiting for me once things get back to normal. When’s that gonna be, anyway? I’m super grateful to Maya for giving me as much work as she does, but there’s no way anyone can make a living and pay for Southern California working only 14 hours a week at being a baseball tutor.
Dad and Meemaw both told me not to lose faith and that something will happen soon. I know Joyce doesn’t mind feeding me, but I don’t like having to depend on my girlfriend (or best buddy) to get a decent meal. Meemaw reminded me that I’m not alone having financial problems in these fucked up ‘uncertain’ times…but one thing is pretty dang certain: that I need more income. It’s not like I’m about to be on the street tomorrow, and, as long as they make cereal and grossass Cup o’ Noodles I’m not going to starve to death, but it’s no fun living this way. Meemaw’s been telling me that one of the reasons I’m getting depressed is that I have too much free time on my hands, and she’s probably right. It hasn’t been getting to me until I started having the problems with my rent, but, yeah, now it is. I may have to get a job at Target or something – I understand they’re hiring – but Joyce still doesn’t like the idea of me being around people and running the risk of getting sick. Keaton says Amazon’s hiring too, and that involves less contact with people, so maybe…
Something’s gonna have to change and soon, though. December rent is only 24 days away.