The sun’s finally poking out. When I got up at 9:00, it was drizzling and very cloudy. The pool temp has really gone down. Hopefully, this notorious bee season is just about over. There are bees all year round here, but not like in the summer.

I think I may have found horoscopes to finish off journal 159 with that aren’t so work-related.

Woke up at 115 pounds, and shit twice. What? Am I gonna shit twice every other day, instead of once a day? Anyway, I’ll be between 115-118 pounds indefinitely.

Later…

Fuck! It’s gonna warm up and dry up over the holiday weekend. The weather will be perfect for a certain pack of assholes to make fools of themselves. It doesn’t matter, though. Even if it were pouring out, they’d still do their shit on Monday. Storms wouldn’t even stop them.

Later…

I just realized something. This is a serious long shot, but whatever it is that that bitch is doing during the weekdays, is something it wasn’t doing a year ago. So maybe, just maybe, she’s one of the ones that have to work on Labor Day. I highly doubt it, though, and even if she did, she gets home at 4:00-5:00. That still leaves a few good hours for partying. Even if she had to be gone from Monday morning to late Monday night, she’d just move her little party to Saturday or Sunday.

Later…

Tom just got in and we bought a couple of pay-per-view movies off the Direct TV.

I also had him put the handle back on the music room window. These old, shitty windows don’t slide up and down. You wind the handle to push them outward. However, we couldn’t lay the soundproof panels on the narrow windowsill with the handle there, so Tom had taken it off. Now come Monday, I can really join the party next door and give them a taste of their own medicine by blaring some music out the window. The only problem with that, though, is that Tom will be here, and he’ll be thoroughly against it. He doesn’t believe in fighting back by giving what you get. Well, if I don’t blast them out during their Monday party, I’ll just get them in the middle of the night.

Later…

Tom got me a few bags of different salad mixes. Some have just lettuce, some have lettuce, carrots, and cabbage slivers, and some have broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots. The broccoli and cauliflower are great. I love the broccoli heated up with melted butter, and I love the cauliflower dunked in ranch dressing.

I am not looking forward to tonight. I know I’m in for some serious game-playing due to a certain someone who loves to tease and who has deep-seated fears. The way he was acting earlier was a dead giveaway as to what the sex will be like tonight. 

Yeah, you guessed it. I’m mid-cycle.

Now, I know I don’t have to pray to God to do right by me when it comes to a kid. I don’t have to beg him to make sure I don’t conceive. It’s a done deal. What I have to pray for, though, is for God to help Tom get over his fears and his need to play games. Well, maybe I’ll just wish I could pray for this because I know doing so will never do a bit of good. Only Tom, with God’s allowing it, can change his ways.

Nonetheless, just the unusually high amount of talk about how I’m so gorgeous (which is a lame attempt on his part to cover for the truth - his love of teasing me/his baby fears), along with certain comments and attitudes, tells me that he’s more than likely gonna refuse to go inside me tonight. I’ll bet you anything that this will be one of the times he’s in the bathroom for a while before we get together. He doesn’t always go to the bathroom before sex, but he usually does. If he does tonight, though, that’ll kind of strengthen my belief as to why he really goes into the bathroom before sex. He’s gonna go and beat it off so that he’ll be pleasantly spent when it comes time to play his games with me because he gets off on that, and because he’s too stubborn to admit his fears to me, too.

He went to bed a little while ago and it’s just about 4 PM now. He wants me to wake him up in 4-5 hours for sex, then we can go back to bed together, he says, to work on our little test some more. He’s suddenly all the more anxious to work on our sleeping together test. See, I won’t be crashing till 11 PM-1 AM. This way, if he breaks up his sleep, we can overlap our sleeping a bit. Then he says he’ll get up a few hours after I’ve crashed so he can have time alone to finish my program. He said it may have a million bugs in it, but at least I can begin testing it out. He’s a great programmer, but my vibes say yes, it’ll have its share of bugs.

Also, Tom will be going to work at 7:30 on Monday evening. So he’ll be leaving in the middle of the party.

One more thing - I asked him how the hell he could screw after just a few hours of sleep and said something like, “You’re not even gonna be able to get in there, let alone go banging away.”

His response was, “Well, if you have it in your head that that’s the way it’ll be, it will.”

I shouldn’t have said that because now he’ll use that as an excuse to make sex a disaster. I just want to have fun. I don’t want to play games, I don’t want to make excuses, he’s welcome to never cum again, but I don’t want lies and games.

Later…

What the fuck are these weird mother-fucking freeloaders doing now? Is the bitch’s dad trying to take the place of her boy toy’s door slamming? She and her dad, who’s like an old version of Bill Cosby, just packed some shit into his Caddy, or whatever the fuck the silver car is, then split. Since it’s just wishful thinking that she’s going away for the holiday weekend, is the cock gonna bring its bitch back later, or what?