Didn’t like Nightmare’s Child, so I’m now reading Billy and it seems better so far. It’s about a child who’s stalked and abducted.

Two days ago I told Tom that I had a moderate-strong vibe that his sore throat would finally, after nearly three weeks, go away. He told me today that it’s almost gone.

Once again, Bill left at 4:30, but then I didn’t see any cars since. Guess the bitch slipped in while I was listening to music or something.

Anyway, I thought I’d write till the slew of sales calls that’s to hit any sec now distracts me. Hopefully, the renters won’t distract me anymore tonight, either. Yeah, the white car just banged in, but not with all bass. All drums. Still, it wasn’t loud enough or often enough to do something about it. I thought it was the silver car next door at first.

Once again, these renters are so damn weird! I think there are something like three adults living over there. I think one was inside or going inside, while a guy and a girl stood outside in this damp rainy weather hugging. Why the fuck would people want to hug outside on such a miserable night?

Tom told me to get him up if it went beyond just a drizzle out there so he could go up in the attic and see if he could see where it was leaking, so I did.

Amazingly, the back room’s not leaking at all. Not yet anyway, but as I told Tom, we’ll never be allowed to fix this roof. It will always leak somehow, somewhere. I don’t know if this roof is forever hexed to anyone who may ever live here, but I do know that as long as we’re here, we won’t be able to fix it. I told him this a long time ago and so far, my vibes haven’t failed.

He insists he was stupid and put a section of the roof on backward while he was tired. Whatever. It’s God I’m pissed off at, though. He’s so mean to Tom. He’s so mean to us. He just won’t help us help ourselves. To me, it’s just like Tom would’ve worked as long and as hard as he did to put the new roof on, only to have some sick fuck come and tear parts of it up. That’s how mean God is. Or something is. I never was one to swear it was God for sure, but if there is a good God of any kind up there, why is he allowing some evil source to do this if it isn’t him that’s doing this? Could the evil source perhaps be stronger than he is? We just want to be left alone. We don’t need these constant setbacks. I warned Tom, too, of the consequences of going against God. If he tries fixing this roof, it’s only gonna get worse. Or something else will go wrong. Then he said that there were two leaks, and when he got one to stop, the other got worse. See? This is exactly the kind of compensation I’m talking about.

I asked him why he wastes his time and sleep trying to fix something that can’t be fixed, and he said that it’s in his nature to not stop trying. Could’ve fooled me. Then if he’s the one wanting more sex and a kid, why’d he stop trying for full-time sex and a kid? (not that God would allow him/us to do this or that that’s what I want) His lame excuse was that you can’t get pregnant during your period, which I have now. True. But neither can you if you don’t screw a woman when she’s mid-cycle, get off in her, and aren’t fertile (or are fertile, but not allowed the right to choose to conceive if you want to). He said that’s why he wants us to go back to basics. He says it’ll up the sex and all that. I don’t want to up the sex, I want to just enjoy it. Also, we can’t up the sex, cuz we can’t change our busyness and schedules.

This period has been the most normal period I’ve had in months and I haven’t needed any ibuprofen. I did have spotting yesterday, so I thought I’d do that till around Saturday or Sunday, but nope. Although it’s still short and light compared to most women (God could never let me be like most women!) it’s normal enough for me. I wish all my periods could be like this. Although the PMS did catch up to me in the end, it was physical. Not mental.

I’ve slacked off on my exercising again, so I want to get back with that even if they don’t do much for me. For most women, as Tom pointed out, they’d help. That’s because most women are trying to get close to my size, but since I’m already where most women are trying to go, they don’t do much for me. If I were 140-180 pounds like most women, then I’d notice more of a difference from these exercises. I’m still heavier than I have been. Woke up at 111 again.

If there’s any good to this rain, it should help clean the air and give my lungs a break from being tight, even if it’s only for a couple of days.

Andy called and left a message saying, “Sure, sure, sure, lonely, lonely, lonely.” 

Gee Andy, I really needed that. God, people and the things they do just for attention and just to be acknowledged. Of course, as I knew would be the case, not a damn thing about my losing Ziggy (I told him about her on his machine yesterday). Not even a simple “I’m sorry” from the selfish thing. He’s another one I contemplate walking away from when we move. I just don’t need him. I don’t see why he needs me, either. I mean, he’s still in Springfield and I’m not. I may not have made as many changes as I’d like, but look where he is and look where I am. It’s not that I look down upon him and consider myself better than him, I just don’t consider us to be as compatible as we used to be. We don’t share the same interests, routines…nothing. But I don’t want to try to control or change him. He doesn’t have to be just like me. I want him to be himself and do the things that make him happy. I just want to move on, so to speak, as I have. I just feel I’ve outgrown him.

Tom says there’s something serious going on with Mary medically. He wonders if she may have some kind of cancer or growth within her liver. Oh, God! Just what she needs. Just what this family needs. If she’s got cancer of the liver, she’s dead. Why God? Why the good people? Why do the good people get cancer while the sick fucks like Bill G get curable cancer? Mary may be a user, but she’s still much better than your average person. Just like Tom’s mom and several members of Tom’s family. Mary, Dave, Tom, and I have a full enough plate between having to deal with dad, and now mom. We don’t need problems with Mary, too. I don’t have any death vibes, and God help us all if I’m wrong, as strong as the life vibe is! Where would Ma live? I can’t picture her staying with just Dave and his son who comes on weekends.

As Tom said, though, this is Mary’s own fault. You can’t live on grease, and that’s exactly what she’s been doing for so many years, but she just doesn’t care. She refuses to eat anything other than McDonald’s. In a way, I envy her and her carefree ways. I wish I didn’t give a shit about what I ate and how I looked and how cluttered and dirty my house was. No one that eats at McDonald’s every single day with such dedication, gives a shit about how they look. She’s got a man’s attitude, and if there was one thing and one thing only that I wish I had that most men have, that’s that I wouldn’t give a damn about how I looked or what I ate. I’d let the house be trashed and not care, either. Mary’s house is one of the filthiest, sloppiest, cluttered, disgusting, ugliest houses I ever did see. Not the house itself, but what’s inside the house. She gets this from her parents, though. Tom’s the same way. It’s just that I won’t let him be, except for the back room, cuz I can’t stand to live in such a filthy cluttered mess. It’s depressing. I like things neat, pretty, uncluttered, and organized.

Maybe Mary will bypass McDonald’s on her way home from work one of these days, clean her house, and cook a nice meal that they all eat as a family at the dinner table. Not at the TV. But Mary’s gotta be Mary. We can’t lecture her like a little two-year-old and tell her how to eat right. Maybe she’s one of those who intend to live it up and who believes in having fewer better years, rather than more tougher ones where you deprive yourself of stuff you love. Some people are like that to the extreme, some are like me where they’re half into being health-conscious, half not. Some are health freaks.