Doomed

Therapy went well today.

My Pop gave me the keys to drive myself. I was supposed to be surprised, but I was to busy trying not to have a panic attack.

I'm not sure if he gave them because he trusts my driving skills, or he's just tired of going with.

I expressed my frustrations of bathing out of a sink for five months, and my confusion as to how/if I could get into my bathtub.

So, we tried the one they had there. Which is about 4-5" shorter than mine, with lots of gadgets and grab bars.

I can't do it. I can't even remotely do it. Nor will I probably ever be able to do it.

The chances of me ever being able to stop bathing out of a sink like a homeless person rely on whether or not my landlord will pay to have my bathroom converted.

I'm pretty sure I'm doomed.

He won't even pay to update his own sisters' bathroom. Her shower is literally falling apart and held together by God knows what.

I'm pretty sure I hit the bathroom lottery in this building, too bad I can't fucking use it.

I'm so desperate, I found out that Microtel will let you rent their handicapped shower for $10. If I had $10 I'd be over there right now. I miss showering. I feel dirty.

My ferrets had fun while I was gone. Those balls are supposed to be in the ball pit last time I checked. Could be wrong.

Moving isn't an option.

A: My rent's cheap.

B: I'm unemployed

C: I put to much work into this place

So, I'm sitting here pretty depressed.