Well, that dreaded weekend has arrived. I’m gonna hope that cuz they just took a fit last weekend and cuz they don’t want to be reminded that I exist as I think they know they will be if they act up, they’ll give me a break this weekend, but we’ll see.

The fact that I can never have a kid and that I can’t lose weight still bothers me here and there. I’m now enjoying the last of the 120s, cuz I know that it’s just a matter of time before the 120s are a thing of the past. Hell, I’ll wish to hell I was 127! Especially when I’m something like 145.

Why is God doing this to me? Why won’t he let exercising take to me? It’s helped my back to feel better, but it hasn’t made me one bit firmer or any smaller. He just won’t let it work for me. Instead, I’m wasting my time and going against his plans for me, but why has he got it in his plans for me to be heavy? What’s the point? Is it to pay for all the years I was thin? And why is it that I have to pay for any good thing I get in this life? Can’t he just give me something without slapping a price on it? Without expecting something in return?

Meanwhile, I just try to tell myself he knows best and that it’s for a good reason; not all necessarily a punishment or compensation. It helps to ease my fears about his power and his ways.

Tom once told me that he’s so absent-minded that he sometimes forgets to do the things he wants to do. In other words, what he’s trying to say is, don’t mind him if he “forgets” to do something regarding the fact that we can’t have a child.

He’s already putting off and making excuses, saying it’s an all-day thing to get us set up with new doctors. True or not, if it’s worth it to him, he’ll do it. He’ll find the time for it.

Given the freak chance that there’s a procedure available that they could do to impregnate me, and given the one in a million chance that God let it stay there for 9 months, you’re talking at least two years. So, there’s no use in worrying if we should wait till we move to have a kid if God decided we should have that choice, cuz that’d be about how long all the testing and procedures would take.

As for my weight, in the meantime, that just keeps on going up slowly but surely, I have no logical explanation for it other than that it’s God’s will. I’m not eating like a pig and I am exercising, so my metabolism shouldn’t be as slow as it apparently is unless some higher power is manipulating it. I don’t have symptoms of a whacked-out thyroid, which is about the only medical cause for weight gain that I can think of.

And as much as I’d be thrilled to have a kid yesterday and know that we could obtain one the natural way, I agree with Tom when he said he hoped I wasn’t pregnant. If the new research is correct and not all hype, then the few cigarettes I had could cause it to have asthma. They’re saying that smoking early on in pregnancy causes asthma.

Well, even though my last period was screwy in the way that I was spotting for 3 days prior to a slow buildup to somewhat of a full flow, it was still enough to take a baby out. It’d be too much for it to survive, cuz the more you bleed, the less likely it is to be able to hang on as the currents of blood flush it out.

If I have another screwy period, then maybe there’s something else going on like with my hormones. That’s something God would screw with, too. Yeah, leave it to him to mess with my hormones, something that’s important in reproducing.

On the other hand, my abnormality isn’t so abnormal in a sense. Whenever there’s a family of more than two kids, there’s always one that can’t have kids. Or that won’t have kids, like Andy.

Later...

Right now, trying to read isn’t very easy. I’m stressed out and having trouble concentrating, cuz I know that any second, some scum-sucking, rude, selfish, lonely asshole, could blast by and distract me.

I think our little filthy black beast is in for the night, though. I think I heard a door that sounded within the carport and it is unlikely for them to have company on a Friday night. I wish this weather, as dreary as it is, would continue on throughout the weekend, but as is the case 99 out of 100 weekends, the weather’s gonna be great. It’s just that while they don’t like it as much when it’s not hot, they hate it even more when it’s rainy out. At least there’s no dog over there cuz if there was one over there right now, I’d be forced to listen to it right now for another hour or two. After having to listen to a dog over there with this sick fuck twice, there isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thankful that there’s no dog over there. I don’t take it for granted.

Weekends, however, are notorious for loud stereos zinging by.

So, even though 3 hours of basketball is more likely in the summer (and this was also to bait me to see if they could catch me doing something for their rude noise, on top of bugging me) God still may send some other kid that doesn’t even know them to play ball for a while and they won’t run out and shoo them away, either.

Well, maybe they’ll leave me the fuck alone this weekend, seeing how they just let me have 3 hours of being made to acknowledge them and seeing how I didn’t do anything but believe me, I kill them with my bare fists every day in my mind.

Another reason that keeps them together longer than most couples, is how he’s so weak, insecure, and young. She’s a middle-aged bitch, and while she doesn’t have her shit anymore together than he does, he needs her to hold his hand and she needs someone to dominate. I know people well enough to be able to see this. I could tell from day one, and I think I made reference to this in these journals, that she was a little dominatrix of a bitch, while he was her phony little boy toy who loves every minute of her having him wrapped around her finger. Some people like that and they like to feel “owned” and bossed around. He probably couldn’t break free of her so easily if he wanted to. It’s more or less one of those addictive relationships. And as for her, he’s an object to dominate, use, and order around. He’s her sex, he’s her rides at times, he’s extra dough, he’s someone to dictate what to do so she can feel in control.

Now here’s a positive compensation for his being in the picture for this winter, and that’s that I haven’t had to run a fan constantly in the back room, cuz of the two guard dogs. At this time of year, they’re usually pretty out of control and barking up a vicious storm, but this winter has been the first winter I’ve been here where the situation wasn’t too bad.

Later...

I took a reading break, and now it’s time for a writing break. I’ve basically been bouncing back and forth between reading and writing today. The weather’s called for it. I mean, today’s the classic day for just lounging about, but so as not to feel too lazy, I’ve done some exercising in the midst of it.

Each of the 3 books I’ve got deals with cases of true crime.

The first one dealt with two teenage girls who were both raped, one was also killed, by two older teenage boys in a small town in Vermont.

The one I’m currently reading is about a woman so obsessed with this married guy, that she kills his wife. It’s one of those Betty Broderick fatal attraction stories.

The last one that I’ll read is about a woman stalked and raped twice by the same guy, and of the system that just doesn’t give a damn about shit like that.

These freeloaders’ reaction is so typical too, in their suspecting I bottled their carport, etc. Got to go run to the courts and expect them to play mommy and daddy. What is it with people and thinking that the courts can solve their problems with people? I just don’t get it. I know that if I have a problem with someone personally, then they are the ones to deal with. I believe in confronting the source directly and not having someone do it for me.

OK, enough about the naughty freeloaders for now. Back to my reading.

Later...

I’m heating up a cup of tea from the pot of tea that I made earlier, then it’s back to my reading. God! I couldn’t even read this much on Oswego St.

In case I never described the Mama Bitch and her kitties, the bitch is gray and white, White Feet’s black and white, and Blackie’s black.

I decided to keep two of the babies I liked that fortunately turned out to be females. One’s got a splotch of white on her back, so I call her Star. The other has a partially formed patch over one eye and I call her Baby Patch. So, that’s 10 mice. Ziggy, Shy, Spot, Tanner, Star, Patch, Baby Patch, Bandit, and the two Cocoas that are all brown and indistinguishable from one another.

Later...

And now I’ve gained another pound. Why? Why? Why? I’ve been exercising every day just about and haven’t been eating a pile of junk food or poorly, so what the fuck’s going on? Well, obviously there’s nothing I can do about it and I certainly can’t be pregnant what with pre-cramps that I’ve got. No problem with God answering my prayers that I not be pregnant at this time due to the cigarettes I had. No problem whatsoever. In fact, I should know better than to pray for something like that. Like it was even necessary for me to pray for something like that?! I don’t think so! I wish there really was something wrong with me that’s causing all this weight gain, cuz that’d be simpler, and then perhaps I could do something about it, but I know better. There’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing I can do about this, and I just have to live with it.

I got a letter from Kim today. She’s not doing too well. Her uncle died and she’s been laid off. She’s still alone, too, the poor girl.