Week Thirteen: Let Down (and hanging around crushed like a bug in the ground)
There are a handful of absolute truths in the world among them that dogs will always be better than people, a good cup of coffee makes any awful day much better, and that disappointment is a fact of life. I am sorry to report that of those absolute truths, disappointment has come to effectively dampen my week with sour news.
I lost the apartment.
A couple of weeks back, I looked at this positively beautiful, charming, sunny apartment near Old Town and it goes without saying that I fell in love. And really, it's no surprise: I'm a sucker for hardwood floors. Of all the apartments I've seen in the last two months, this is the only one I've actually put in an application for. As such, I've spent the majority of my spare time since then looking for a prospective roommate intent on seizing the perfect opportunity to find my next long-term home. Earlier yesterday afternoon, after an interview that went particularly well, I called the homeowner to try and set up a showing for this prospective roommate. Here's the thing with this situation: after falling truly, madly, deeply in love with this house (I've been drowning my sorrows in 90's ballads. #SorryNotSorry), the homeowner said quite explicitly that he would hold it for me until April 1st so I had time to find a roommate.
That mother trucker LIED. The aforementioned roommate dejectedly informed me that it had been rented to someone else.
What? How? What?
All very good questions. And did I get explanation for any of it? Nope, nope, nope. What's infuriating about this in particular is that I have spent not only all of my spare time in the last two weeks interviewing thirteen different people (because I am nothing if not flawlessly thorough), fielding countless emails, arranging my schedule to accommodate all this wackiness, but I communicated readily, heartily, and openly with the homeowner about the entire ordeal! Not once did he think to mention "Oh, by the way, I rented it to someone else despite the verbal agreement we had."
Infuriating.
So, sadly, unfortunately, I am back on the house hunt. Disappointed and discouraged at my seemingly terrible lot. That's life, my friends.
In other news, and I hate to report this, my lack of a future home is not the only disappointment going on in my life right now: my keto diet has been effectively kicked to the curb. While I could probably claim that throwing my diet out the window can be attributed to the wacky stuff going on in my home life, I know truthfully the root of my problem is the emotional connection I have with food. It's an issue. How is that I learned to deal with my stressors by eating whatever I wanted to? Or maybe more appropriately, when did I learn this behavior? It's difficult to say but at least I recognize that there's an underlying issue not only to my weight but to my relationship with food as a whole.
There was a moment last weekend after being out and about, running a million miles an hour, trying to juggle my own schedule, the needs of my dog, and expending far too much social energy to meet these potential roommates where I just said "fuck it" and got an approximate frick-ton of food from Sonic. While I was sitting in the car stuffing my face with tater tots and a chicken wrap, I just felt...despondent. I'd been so well for so long on my keto diet and the realization of what I was putting in my body just weighed me down, in both a literal and figurative way. Since then, I've felt just a little bit more fatigued and a little bit slower and a little bit less energetic. Not to mention the heartburn. Yikes!
I'm trying not to let this setback define my #30Before30 project moving forward, however! There is a lot I have yet to accomplish and I'll be damned if this one thing sets me completely off course. In an effort to psyche myself up for future success, I signed up at a gym over the weekend! Though it's a bit more expensive than I would like, this gym has the added benefits of a climbing wall, full access to an incredible array of group fitness classes, and aside from a pool, basically all of the stuff that I would want to use in my fitness goals.
And that's that. Now, don't mind me while I drown my sorrows over losing the best damn apartment in Fort Collins with some beer and Toni Braxton.
I lost the apartment.
A couple of weeks back, I looked at this positively beautiful, charming, sunny apartment near Old Town and it goes without saying that I fell in love. And really, it's no surprise: I'm a sucker for hardwood floors. Of all the apartments I've seen in the last two months, this is the only one I've actually put in an application for. As such, I've spent the majority of my spare time since then looking for a prospective roommate intent on seizing the perfect opportunity to find my next long-term home. Earlier yesterday afternoon, after an interview that went particularly well, I called the homeowner to try and set up a showing for this prospective roommate. Here's the thing with this situation: after falling truly, madly, deeply in love with this house (I've been drowning my sorrows in 90's ballads. #SorryNotSorry), the homeowner said quite explicitly that he would hold it for me until April 1st so I had time to find a roommate.
That mother trucker LIED. The aforementioned roommate dejectedly informed me that it had been rented to someone else.
What? How? What?
All very good questions. And did I get explanation for any of it? Nope, nope, nope. What's infuriating about this in particular is that I have spent not only all of my spare time in the last two weeks interviewing thirteen different people (because I am nothing if not flawlessly thorough), fielding countless emails, arranging my schedule to accommodate all this wackiness, but I communicated readily, heartily, and openly with the homeowner about the entire ordeal! Not once did he think to mention "Oh, by the way, I rented it to someone else despite the verbal agreement we had."
Infuriating.
So, sadly, unfortunately, I am back on the house hunt. Disappointed and discouraged at my seemingly terrible lot. That's life, my friends.
In other news, and I hate to report this, my lack of a future home is not the only disappointment going on in my life right now: my keto diet has been effectively kicked to the curb. While I could probably claim that throwing my diet out the window can be attributed to the wacky stuff going on in my home life, I know truthfully the root of my problem is the emotional connection I have with food. It's an issue. How is that I learned to deal with my stressors by eating whatever I wanted to? Or maybe more appropriately, when did I learn this behavior? It's difficult to say but at least I recognize that there's an underlying issue not only to my weight but to my relationship with food as a whole.
There was a moment last weekend after being out and about, running a million miles an hour, trying to juggle my own schedule, the needs of my dog, and expending far too much social energy to meet these potential roommates where I just said "fuck it" and got an approximate frick-ton of food from Sonic. While I was sitting in the car stuffing my face with tater tots and a chicken wrap, I just felt...despondent. I'd been so well for so long on my keto diet and the realization of what I was putting in my body just weighed me down, in both a literal and figurative way. Since then, I've felt just a little bit more fatigued and a little bit slower and a little bit less energetic. Not to mention the heartburn. Yikes!
I'm trying not to let this setback define my #30Before30 project moving forward, however! There is a lot I have yet to accomplish and I'll be damned if this one thing sets me completely off course. In an effort to psyche myself up for future success, I signed up at a gym over the weekend! Though it's a bit more expensive than I would like, this gym has the added benefits of a climbing wall, full access to an incredible array of group fitness classes, and aside from a pool, basically all of the stuff that I would want to use in my fitness goals.
 |
| All of my strength comes from Queen Bey. She believes in me. |
And that's that. Now, don't mind me while I drown my sorrows over losing the best damn apartment in Fort Collins with some beer and Toni Braxton.
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