Let me get the better or trivial things out of the way before I get to the shitty news.

I called to say hi to Paula, but there was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. The kid wouldn’t be there now.

Andy still leaves his daily 3-minute messages, which is the maximum each message can be, telling me how much he loves his job. I’m happy for him. Now that he’s got the car and job, I hope he gets the guy, but I don’t know.

I talked to Tammy a little while ago and she hasn’t quit smoking, but I told her to keep trying.

We went and played miniature golf yesterday. As usual, he kicked my ass, but we had fun.

Then we went to the library. It was a branch neither of us had been to before and it was weird looking. It was quite noisy, too, what with the handicapped people there. I don’t know if they had MD, or if they were retarded, had autism or what, but they were kind of loud with their hoots and howls. I got 5 books since I’m picky about what I read. The first one I tried, I couldn’t get into, but the second one’s great.

I was just out feeding the cats and refilling the cats and Bunny’s water supply. They’re all getting braver by the day, but of course, White Feet’s still the bravest and the friendliest and she even took a treat out of my hand the other day. I also play with the kittens, too, with yarn and balls.

Ma sent a message about her and Dad’s trip. I guess they were unfortunate enough to have to spend most of it with leg pain and arthritis pain and on the phone with their suppliers.

My other Mom has decided that that’s it, she’s ready to move. So she’s getting rid of a lot of her stuff and yes, the house will be sold at some point. I’m happy that she made this decision and is able to see that she just can’t live alone anymore. I’m sure that her moving into Mary’s and selling the house will make it easier for everyone.

From what I hear, Ma’s sister Margaret is still up to her same old crazy shit. She had to sleep in the tub with the water running on her feet, to ward off evil spirits.

The letter to the city went out yesterday and Tom did a fantastic job with it. Even though I know that nothing will come of this letter, especially anything good, it was so very well written. In fact, he did a much better job than I could’ve done.

OK, here’s the shitty news, even though I knew this was coming - it’s back. The fucking beast next door has returned and now I can kiss the peaceful nights goodbye. See, I don’t trust Tom when it comes to next door. He said that he was sure the dog wouldn’t come back, so when he says that, and that they’re not deliberately pissing me off, and that there’s something that can be done about the music and the dog too, I don’t buy it. In the end, the only person who can do something about the dog and music will be me. The dog’s return, however, may curb the music somewhat. Remember, by them and by God, it has to be one or the other. I wondered when he blared that music so incredibly loud a few days ago if he were trying to tell me something. He was trying to tell me that the dog would be returning. Then he escalated the music till making the switch back to the dog. I don’t know if he won’t stick me with both this time, but we’ll see. Yes, I still would take the dog over the music since the dog couldn’t wake me up, but this shit’s bad enough. I’m so fucking sick of these people and this city. I love Arizona and yes, this city’s got a lot of nice things about it that puts Springfield to shame, but I’ve also come to hate this city with a passion. Here, you either live in houses a few feet apart or out in nowhere land. There’s no happy medium. It really sucks that if you live in a house out here, and if you’re neighbors want a dog as part of their lives, it has to be a part of your life, too. I can’t look forward to my dusk-to-dawn peace anymore when I’m up at those times. That’s all gone now. It’s daytime now, so the fucking beast is quiet, but dogs don’t break routines too easily (look how long it took the guard dogs to quit their late-night barking) and I know that from around 6 PM-2 AM, it’s gonna be non-stop barking. If only these dogs could do their barking on the same shift, but not a chance. Each dog has their own way, and trust me, when the guard dogs can’t be heard, it’ll be next door’s turn to bark, and vice versa. Tom says that in a week or two tops, the night barking will stop and by the time it gets hot again, it’ll be settled in and will be no worse than the guard dogs. Bull fucking shit. I’m sorry. I love my dear hubby, but he’s dead wrong.

Anyway, the depression, anger, and frustration over it, can really have me stressed. I have to have fans on all night cuz these freeloaders say so and cuz they have to force their dog on me. And God won’t let me fight back, either. If I were to stick a source of noise on them that was 3 feet away from them or wake them up, I’d get holy hell for it from God and have my sleep taken away and have more things go wrong, but meanwhile, they can do whatever the fuck they want to me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

I know now that they’re not moving. Not for a very long time, anyway. Each day my feelings get stronger and the weaker any vibe gets about them moving. They ain’t going anywhere.

It’s quite a coincidence that even though I knew this dog would return, it returns the same day Tom sends a letter about the music. As if God’s reminding me that if I fuck with him/fate, I’ll be compensated and made to pay for it. If there was such a thing as this letter being effective with the music, they’d just go out and get more dogs, with God’s help. Or they’d just have to have more company and maybe use that basketball hoop some more.

Later...

When I mentioned that I’ll be getting a period in two weeks that I shouldn’t be getting, Tom said, “Who said anything about November? I told you December and that hasn’t changed, so there should be no question about getting a period in two weeks.”

There shouldn’t be? Does he know something I don’t? I’m sorry, but any normal woman who got a squirt when I did, should more than likely be pregnant. But I’m not pregnant and I’d like to know how many more years it’ll take for Tom to see the reality of the situation. And I’d also like to know how and why he can sound so sure about this December crap. I mean he really, really sounds so damn sure of himself. Has he gone that much further into denial, or does he really know something I don’t? Has he really held back all this time, just waiting for what he thought would be a great time to squirt like hell? If so, I’d rather that that be the case, than this yearly denial thing. His knowing the truth won’t undo the truth, but it’d still help me, nonetheless. This doesn’t mean I’d ever have the guts to see a doctor about it, cuz I know what God would do to me if I got by him (not that this is something I could get by God on). I still say it’s what my gut instinct first told me - he’s afraid to cum much cuz he fears a child. Therefore, we can’t worry about my being afraid to see a doctor when he won’t cum but once every few months anyway. He’s much too smart to be naïve, so I’d say he’s pulling my leg about the bed being a magic cure and he knows it, too.

Still, what the hell is going on here? I just wish I knew what was really going through Tom’s mind and heart. Well, the bed should be here this week, so it’s just a matter of time now that I’ll be seeing just whatever it is that he’s gonna do. That is if that bed makes it here for sure without any more stalling.

Later...

Tom went to bed a little while ago and I began my new exercise plan, which I’ll explain after.

As far as how I knew the beast was back. Well first of all, when houses are just a few feet apart from one another and no one takes their dogs indoors, it’s no secret for more than 5 minutes, but I knew it before I heard it. Yesterday afternoon at around 4:00 I heard the little girl and the asshole in the backyard. Knowing they were not big on cooler weather and that it was a very odd time to be having company, I knew they had to be setting up stuff for the dog, like food and water. And then I heard it bark away. I looked out front expecting to not be able to see the car and I got what I expected. He’s gonna park deep in the carport again. Especially at night, so they can rig the thing up to the car in regard to me. Yup, these assholes really want to instigate shit and provoke me. Well, when I can convince Tom of how useless the letter will be, they’ll get what they want from me, only much much worse.

My vibes when it comes to them are pretty darn accurate. I guess we all have our weak spots and our hot spots when it comes to vibes, but like with the kid, I seem to be right on mostly when it comes to these sick fucks. So, trust me when I say that the letter’s already either in the garbage or filed away somewhere way out of the way, they’ll be here for quite a while longer, and that the dog and music will be a problem unless I do something about it myself.

I asked Tom if the city decided not to ignore the letter and if we’re right about how he’s not supposed to be there if he thought he’d end up leaving. He said yes, for a while. That’s true. The for a while part. I’m sure it won’t come to his leaving unless they have a fight which doesn’t look likely lately, but if he does leave, you’re talking just 2-3 months. Meanwhile, I’m sure his frequent visits would be made known to me. Very well known.

I asked if he thought it was his dog or hers. No clue, he said. I’m sure it’s hers.

Just a few more hours of peace left to go. Even the guard dogs have been quieter this winter. I’m pleasantly surprised. I still wish this winter could be like last winter. It was the quietest winter of all the winters I’ve been here.

According to Tom, though, the couple of hours or so that he spent in the back room late last night, he heard no barking. I don’t know about that, though, cuz he’s much more tolerant than me. Therefore, the dog could’ve easily barked without him noticing. As loud as it is in the back room, especially at night, it could still go over Tom’s head. Unless he felt that telling me he heard anything, if he did, would rile me up even more.