For the first time in a while, I actually had things I needed to get done outside of the house today, which meant that I had a reason to get out of bed before 10 a.m. I’m still having weird dreams, though. Last night, I had a very vivid one about Logan and I visiting Las Vegas together. Dear subconscious mind: I’m going to need you to fucking chill. At least Logan was a nice person in the dream.

I pried myself out of bed, taped multiple grocery bags to my stump of a foot, and showered. It was a process. Despite The Warden’s concerns, I then took the car out to do my various errands in Hicksville. I hadn’t even made it out of the driveway before I realized that I would need to drive with my left foot. That was interesting.

My first stop was the DMV. I had to renew my driver’s license and provincial health card, both of which also required new photos. I did my best. The fluorescent lighting felt personal. At least my eyebrows won’t resemble Spock’s on these new ID cards. Note to 16-year-old Kurt: easy on the tweezing.

After my photoshoot, I stopped by a MediClinic to do some blood work and urine tests. Dr. Cohen had given me the requisitions almost a month ago, but I kept putting them off. The tests weren’t for anything significant. Unless we’re counting my hypochondria. I did my thing, but ran out of pee. They told me to drop off another sample later today.

Back at Casa Z, I made some food while watching more CNN documentaries. In a surprising change of events, I also used my desk and got some actual work done. Boring. Driving around with the car was fun, though. I decided to go out and do some more errands, specifically to knock things off of my to-do list for this weekend’s Love-In. I also dropped off my urine. Riveting, I know.

Once I was home again, I had a phone conversation with Robyn Wren from The Clubhouse. We needed to follow-up on last week’s discussion about the job offer. Robyn said that The Clubhouse wouldn’t give me benefits, nor would they pay me more. At least, not right away. That was their counter-offer. After three months in my position, I will receive an hourly wage increase. At this point, I don’t even care. I told Robyn that I could start on June 1, and I accepted the offer. It’s official: I have a job.

I pushed through a workout in the basement, and then got ready for another family dinner. Mom, Dad, and Phillip were generous with their support about me accepting The Clubhouse job, but I didn’t really want the fanfare. Mind you, I probably would have been pissed if they didn’t celebrate. I’m happy they acknowledged my new job. Mom, Dad, and I watched some of The Seventies after dinner, and then headed upstairs for bed.

It took everything in me not to smoke weed tonight. I view blazing as such a celebratory activity. I want to smoke weed. I really, really want to. Yet, I’m fully aware of the fact that I can’t handle the stuff. Each time I try getting high again, it’s me being stubborn. I’m trying to prove that I can overcome my impulses while stoned – binge eating, laziness, etc. – yet, I fail miserably every time. Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t smoke tonight.

Before bed, I was thinking a lot about my new job with The Clubhouse. I really am grateful for the opportunity. I’m excited about it. I’m also happy that a big boy job is happening before my birthday. I know it shouldn’t matter, but landing this job is my way of ending this birth year on a good note.

I’m also thankful for the fact that money will no longer be as big of an issue. I’ll have a steady paycheck. It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, but I’m so happy that I’m not going to struggle anymore. I’ll be able to pay my rent, buy groceries, go places, and actually live without buyer’s remorse for every dollar I spend.

I’m nervous to move back downtown. I’m also excited. Returning to the Witch Cave after this month at Casa Z almost feels as though I’m moving downtown for the first time. In a way, it feels like a fresh start. This was the way that I wanted my move to the city to happen two years ago – with a job attached to it. Clearly, life doesn’t follow a “plan.”

Goodnight xo