"At any given moment I'm only about 30 seconds away from losing my shit."

In the week since my last blog entry I have:

* Gotten further buried in an avalanche of work and freelance
* Found out that my new roommate had to back out the day she was to sign the lease
* Nearly had a nervous breakdown
* Scurried to find another roommate
* Nearly had another nervous breakdown
* Smoked 1.5 cigarettes bummed off a friend
* Drank 2 bottles of wine and other various beverages
* Spent $7 on a tiny but tasty amount of French blue cheese, which was like a moldy, tangy, creamy slice of heaven

What is it about finding a stranger to live in your home that is so fucking stressful? Perhaps stranger is the operative word here. Yes, I will find someone. Yes, it's only a week till the end of the month. Yes, my current roommate, although her stuff is now packed and on its way to California, said she's pay for April if I don't find anyone. But it's the uncertainty that I cannot stand.

And so to deal with my stress, I have fallen upon all my bad habits. Red wine, dark chocolate, food, and cigarettes. Mind you the cigarette and a half I smoked was a Marlboro Ultra Lite, which is really like smoking nicotine spiked air, but I'm really mad at myself for smoking again period. Actually what I really need is some weed. Yeah, some weed. Oh what I would give to be back in Amsterdam again . . .