Tom’s going to dust the ceiling fan in the living room and he wants me nowhere near it. Ain’t that sweet? Most people forget or do not give a shit that dust makes me sneeze and wheeze.

My insurance will pay for any work on my teeth, but he said if they didn’t, he’d slap it on his credit card. How nice.

I typed letters to my parents, Kim, and Fran. Tomorrow I’ll do a letter to Bob and I hope he - or someone - writes soon. Hope I get mail tomorrow. I can feel it. I mean, I should. Bob oughta have gotten those stamps I sent. I hope none of the guards steal them.

I finished watching some shows I taped, as well as other stuff that was on. On weeknights at 1:30 AM, they have old reruns of Little House on the Prairie. I think I saw just about every single episode there ever was. Just like with Charlie’s Angels, The Bionic Woman, and Twin Peaks. I miss those days when they’d make over 100 episodes of all series. Now it’s only 10-15 and you see the same few shows over and over.

My tooth is wiggling a bit. Even though it’s a very slight wiggle. I hope I can hold out till the 26th.