Occupation Anxiety

There's a certain anxiety that comes about when you know that the place you are staying is not the place you are welcome. Poor as hell but making the best of the ten dollars left in my bank account until my next day of work. Constantly wondering if I'm good enough at waiting tables to make 500 a month and enough to get around on. I hate serving meat. Getting money off the machine that keeps going the idea that it's okay to eat something that had breath in its lungs. I've never had this sense of groundlessness before. Blah blah blah. All i know is that the coffee table i'm resting my foot on is coming with me. Everthing else can stay. The television, the shitty chairs, even the clock-radio. The coffee table, though... i like that table. I've watched Children of Men like three times since i bought it. Quality. Good music. Clive Owen. Shibang.
Tomorrow is my grandmother's 91st birthday. I bought her a frog statue wearing a crown and a pull-back action Nerf Speed Loader Foam Dart Gun. It shoots up to 10.5 meters and can hold up to eight darts. The card i bought her has strict instructions to not let anyone take it away from her and to take it to church next time she goes.
I'll try and post pictures up. I don't have a computer anymore, so it may be a bit.