It's extraordinarily hot in Minnesota today. Yesterday we avoided it by driving up to Grant's in the morning. Today, however, there appears to be no where we can escape save for the local coffee shop. They say that it's the winters here that cause cabin fever. They failed to account for the swealtering summers and the constant drone of AC units.

Marion moved in a week ago. For now, things seem to be okay. We've managed to work out most of the space issues for the moment, although I suspect there will be ongoing negotiations until we sort things out. The cat Sam seems to be handling the ubrupt change of dwelling. He's found little corners in the apartment in which to hide. He is certainly not as well behaved as Kimi. We've found packages of food in the sink or on the floor at times, partially opened but otherwise intact. He's not a bad cat, but he's following an enormous example of restraint. 

I worry about what the cramped quarters means for my relationships. I've noticed how much having a financially and emotionally stable place of my own matters to my mental health. Before sharing my home with anyone, I could be confident that as long as I keep the place clean and pay my bills on time I had no reason to worry. If my day was stressful, I knew that when I came home and locked the door behind me all of that was elsewhere. I knew that if I couldn't handle someone I care about having a bad day -- as my own reserve of stress tolerance was too low -- I only needed to not log in to any IM services. These techniques helped me to manage my chronically high stress level with little outside support structure. 

Since I opened my home to others, the situation has worsened for me psychologically. The same exact day Pazi arrived, I was hit with a 20% pay cut that stayed for nearly a year. My workplace was acquired. Everyone I worked with and considered collegues at work was fired. I started working from home, something that caused further stress and constant worry that I'm never working hard enough. The projects at work have been on insane time schedules that only seem to get shorter while the requirements lists have gotten longer. I've been separated from any semblence of technical work, resulting in constant understimulation but no remaining energy to exorcise it. We were hit with a bogus cleanliness inspection by a overworked maintenance guy, the reprocussions of which I cannot calculate. 

The result? My home no longer feels safe. It's no longer a sancuary. It feels like a bullseye with a kitchen, bedroom, and bath.