Monday’s arrived with this being day two of Tom having yet another cold. Well, I’m sorry he’s got a cold, but I knew Tom wouldn’t have cum any more than usual, had we screwed every day since last Monday. I just hope the day will come real soon when he stops saying he’s gonna do things that at least I know he can’t do, whether he wants to or not.

Just as I feared, I did get punished for opening my mouth to Rugg. We both did. Yesterday I woke up with a very bad attack (didn’t have to go to the ER, though), and he got a cold. He punished him, too, for taking me to the doctor. God sees him as a conspirator, I guess.

Yesterday I finally reached my breaking point as far as this baby crap goes. I refuse to live this way any longer. I went through it with the singing. I went through it with the woman and I will no longer go through this with the kid. I refuse to take another year of this shit. Or even another month, week or day. I refuse to let my fate ruin and run my everyday thoughts and life. Nothing we could ever do or that a doctor could ever do could get me pregnant. It is not meant to be!!!!!!!

That’s when I threw out all the papers Rugg gave me and told Tom, “Look. When the time is right, if the time is right, I’ll get pregnant. That is with little or as much sex. With or without counting days and taking temps. A baby is up to God to decide to give us or to not give us, not up to us to decide to give us or to not give us.”

No one can do God’s work for him. Not us, not doctors, not anyone. If a child is so meant to be (for anyone) then no one needs to see to it that they have a certain amount of sex. Or count days. Or take their temps. If a child isn’t meant to be - the same rule applies. No amount of sex, counting or temperature charts can or will change that. I refuse to fight God any longer. I refuse to do his work for him. I can’t do his work for him or change his mind to this or that, whether or not a child was in our cards. If it’s meant to be, we could be on some kind of contraceptive and I’ll end up pregnant. If it’s not, we can screw till we wear out the meaning of the word, count like hell and take my temperature like hell, I still won’t get pregnant. This is God’s choice. Not ours. Meanwhile, I’m gonna sit back, relax, and let God decide whether or not to allow me to get pregnant. You see, the truth really hit me yesterday - if something, if anything, is meant to be, then there is no working for it or trying for it - it’ll just happen. And if something isn’t meant to be, all the trying and work in the world won’t make it happen. Besides, why should I spend my time working and trying for a kid, huh? Why should I?! That’s not my job. It’s God’s job to create life. I’m not gonna do his work for him and I couldn’t, anyway.

No, I’ll never stop wanting a kid, even though I know God’s made up his mind since the day I was born (probably even before) and said a child wasn’t in my cards. But if he should shockingly and suddenly change his mind, he’ll make sure we hit it right. We won’t need a doctor, a chart or a thermometer to do his work for him. He creates life. Not papers that say how to count. Not thermometers. Not doctors. Not us.

An example of what I’m talking about is Tom and I. We were meant to be. Therefore, we didn’t have to work or try to find each other. It just happened on its own, cuz we were fated to meet. Then we worked and took it from there to maintain the relationship. You don’t work for things. You work to keep things and nurture things once you get them.

Now, enough of this fucking, goddamn subject that’s ruled my life for how many years? I’m almost embarrassed and ashamed to count and like I said, I’m done with counting. It’s time to move on and live my life, whether that means changes of any kind or no changes. Just fuck this fucking baby shit and may it go to hell and not come back!!!!!!!

Yesterday, we let Bunny run around loose in the yard for the second time. Out there, he really got a chance to just be a rabbit and he dug a 5” hole in the back of the yard. He had a blast out there.

Later...

I was just hanging up a load of clothes when I saw that our hot-weather people were out. It’s amazing that I can’t hear them all through the house and that I didn’t know they were outside till I went outside. They’re talking loud, but not as loud as those black girls usually talk. Anyway, it’s cool cuz I can just faintly hear it in the music room, there is no screaming, bouncing balls or music. I hope that they had parties cuz of him and that that wasn’t her idea. Cuz then as long as he stays out of the picture, I won’t have to worry as much, and these people do come alive in hotter weather.

It appears to be her and her girlfriend. Or sister, or whoever she is. The one that said hi to me when I was putting out mail one day. I’ve seen her over there a few times.

The question is, why are they sitting in their carport? Why aren’t they either on their front porch or back patio? And why are they there on a Monday? I thought she worked days. Maybe she’s on vacation.

That was fast. I just checked to see if they were still out there gabbing, but didn’t hear a thing. There’s no vehicle out front and I couldn’t see if there had been one from the angle with which I gazed into the carport. Also, I’ve never known there to be chairs out there in the carport, so maybe she was seeing her friend off, who has a car, in the carport. At this time of year, people would want to park in carports. Yeah, I’d say that that’s what it was about. Her pal was parked in the carport. They came out of the house gabbing, as she was about to leave.