It's raining.

It's also almost 4PM.

Another anxiety fueled morning that prompted me to force myself past the chemicals flooding my brain and go look at apartments.

I found one that I really liked. A fourplex that was a remodeled old colonial-looking cottage. Something like that. I don't remember the exact descriptors.

Huge. Beautiful. Underpriced for what it was. She could have easily been asking $1200 for the place, no issue.

But I couldn't do it. My panic set in. It was a privately owned property, the owner lived in one of the four suites. The one I would be living next to. I would be in constant fear that I would be monitored, made to feel uncomfortable, forced to have polite conversations, and eventually booted if the whim hit her.

So I left. Drove around and walked around in the rain, looking at properties.

Some were nice. Some weren't. I wasn't impressed with the way the management companies handled themselves.

And then I found it.

Actually, I drove by a place, called the number, asked to see it, was sent to the management office to get keys, met the management person... and I really liked him. I really liked the office. I loved the price on the place.

I drove back to the property, and as I was unlocking the gate, my father called me to tell me he wanted me home tonight because we are doing our missing Christmas morning tomorrow. And they want to talk to me about my future, about my schooling, about money.

I talked to him as I walked around the place. Beautiful. Told him I'd show up later tonight. He sounded almost like who he used to be.

The place... high ceilings. Wood floors. Huge closet. Vanity space. Interesting kitchen. All utilities paid except for electricity. Laundry on-site. Faux fireplace. Parking for $40 a month.

And as I mentally assembled where my furniture would go, I knew that was the place for me. A tiny but beautiful studio across the street from a very happening bar (not that I drink, but that particular bar is a favorite people-watching place of mine), only a few blocks away from C's place.

So I applied about an hour ago. I'll know if I got it on Monday. I'm the first applicant in (well, aside from one other who had to pull out due to financial trouble), so if I clear all their background/credit/employment/income checks, which I believe I should, the place is mine.

Yesterday, I went up to the office and talked to my boss. Let him know what happened with my family, what was going on, and asked if he could please please please disregard my one-month notice I gave him the previous week. That I'm staying on.

He said he would like to have me stay. I've worked there for over two years. I bust my ass for them. I know all the customers and some of them only want to talk to me, no one else.

So I still have my job.

Tomorrow, I have to sit down with my parents and turn away all their offers, all the money and hopes and begging me to let them support me for awhile while I go to school. I just can't quit my job. I can't be left drifting like that. It's too dangerous, especially with my dad being the way he is.

On January 8th, I need to drop all my classes that I already paid for and enroll in one class. Just one.

And then all the decisions will have been made, and I will have altered my course entirely.

Busy week.