The Weight We Carry

I Apparently Missed a Few Chapters

I haven't written a poem since June 15th.

It is September 5th, so... hi.
I'm alive. Mostly.

I didn't stop writing because I ran out of things to say.
Apparently I stopped writing at the exact moment my life decided,
"Perfect. Now do everything at once."

Nine days before my last poem, I graduated.
June 6th. Kentucky. Cap, gown, bachelor's degree, the whole thing.

You'd think that would've been the season finale.

Apparently that was the fucking cold open.

I brought Chaos Cleaning back—not started it, brought it back—
and that didn't exactly go according to plan.
Turns out resurrecting an old side hustle doesn't guarantee
the side hustle actually wants to live.

Then August 15th, I moved.

Into an apartment with my best friend and her husband.

Three adults. Four cats. One driver.

Me.

And we live on the third floor, because when I said
I wanted to move up in life, apparently the universe took that literally.

Groceries? Stairs. Laundry? Stairs.
Forgot something in the car?

No I didn't.

Whatever it was belongs to the Buick now.

Oh yeah—the Buick.

New character.

I bought a 2014 Buick Verano about two months ago,
and she's mainly doing fine, which after my history with cars
is basically a five-star review.

She needed a very overdue oil change, a new battery,
and three new tires.

Not four.

Three.

Because apparently even my car maintenance
has to be slightly fucking inconvenient.

But she drives, which is more than I can currently say for the Ford.

The Ford is sitting in my apartment parking lot
waiting to be repossessed.

Before accepting its new career as pavement decoration,
I did try fixing it.

A transmission shop drove it for five minutes
and told me it was an engine problem.

Then a regular shop quoted me eleven thousand dollars for the transmission
plus another three thousand in repairs.

Fourteen thousand dollars.

For a Ford Escape.

For fourteen grand, that bitch better fix me.

So now I occasionally walk past it like,
"Nobody's come for you yet? Cool."

Meanwhile, my employment history spent the summer
playing musical chairs.

Jimmy John's finally hired me a month after my interview.
I knew they were remodeling and waiting for staffing to change,
so eventually I started working there with David and his best friend.

Then they didn't really have a place for me anymore.

So I quit.

Wait a month to get hired, work there briefly, disappear.

Beautiful little side quest.
Ten out of ten. No notes.

I still babysit at the church.
I occasionally DoorDash.
I'm writing articles online for money now,
and I'm still collecting cans and bottles because this is Michigan
and other people's empty Dr Pepper cans are worth actual currency.