A change for the (hopefully) better

Daddy's ex-boss called today offering him his old job back at the car dealership. This boss gave him the boot back in October for taking a Saturday off (which he had requested ahead of time for a trip we had planned before summer). Anyway- car dealerships slow down for winter, that's no secret, so the "letting go" didn't really come as a surprise...but it hurt our bank account and some of our bills. This boss called with his tail between his legs asking him to come back, this time as a supervisor. More money. Working six days a week. For more money. Starting tomorrow if he's interested. Now, back in October there were a lot of "Fuck him and his job" and "I can find another job" and more "Fuck him"'s. But that was a good job. We were doing pretty good back then. So Daddy put his pride in check and accepted. So good-bye stupid job that he has now which has us in the dog house and basically depending on my (small) checks, and hello Big Dealership. My car will be spic-n-span everyday. My carpets will be cheeto-crumb free. My windshield will sparkle. Because that's what happens when it's dead at the dealerships...the employees get their cars washed and sometimes detailed.
I'm hoping that we can get out of this rut we're in, because the depression is starting to settle in with me.
Oh-and there's bad news...we can't have the apartment. The landlady is his aunt, and somehow between us giving her the deposit (IN JANUARY) and them taking more than a month to put us in it, she has changed her mind. She told SIL that she doesn't think we can afford it. At first it was "Maybe they can take the smaller apartment" (the one bedroom in back that is just the bedroom, a "living room" a kitchen and a bathroom-no closets) but I told Daddy no. We have been waiting more than a month to get this apartment and now we can't have it? Fuck you lady. And fuck your apartment, give me my deposit back, we're going somewhere else. Not to mention the craptastic time we are having staying in the Disney Princess room at SIL's house. At least Daddy sees my point of view. In the smaller apartment we will have no space, and my Little Man won't have his own room, and where the hell am I supposed to put all our clothes and his toys and things I don't want out in the open like that? It's a miracle they fit a bathtub in that small ass bathroom. (Don't let me tell you what the toilet looks like...) And the one bedroom-with a Queen size bed, a crib, and a dresser...nope. Not happening. So back to apartment hunting. And more moving. Because we haven't done enough of that this year...
Next Monday is my appointment, trying not to think about it too much, and with all this going on I'm actually succeeding.
I need a drink. Too bad I haven't had a drink since before I was preggo, and one watered-down fruity drink will probably knock me on my ass...