The braces went on one year ago today. The top ones did, anyway.

Still enjoying my Glade plug-ins which I recommended to Andy (he left a message wanting to chat at 1:00, but I didn’t get up till 3:00 and wasn’t ready to chat till 4:00, but when I called him back, I got no answer). They haven’t made me sneeze, thank God, and they haven’t made me anymore tighter than usual in the lungs. I may break down and just go ahead and make an appointment with the doctor to see if there’s anything she can do for the tightness I’ve had. Maybe just upping my Vanceril and moving out of the city will be enough, though. We’ll see. I can’t believe I can be so tight and short of breath a whole year and a half after quitting smoking. That’s just my luck, huh?

It was really nice to wake up to such a nice-smelling bedroom. Another cool thing is that when you walk from the back room to the living room and to the bedroom, it’s cool how the scents change. I was afraid they’d all merge as one and be one big confusing scent, but they didn’t.

Tom’s gonna get me boxes from work every Sunday. I guess on that day they have suitable boxes that aren’t too big and that will be easy enough to handle for moving. They also have lids.

I wonder if the city will talk to that bitch today about her rude, selfish company? I would think they’d talk to her before the weekend hits, although this weekend would probably have been pretty quiet anyway cuz of last weekend’s shit. I know their pattern. Like I said, I’ve dealt with their shit for three years and I refuse to take any more of it during my 15-20 or so weekends left here. So, if that letter spares me just one more outburst, it’s well worth it.

God, I pity the new owners. Like I said, Tom feels they’ll want to start off on the right foot this time around. Fat chance! If anything, they’ll be glad to have fresh victims to harass, with the hopes that the odds will be in their favor and that the new victims won’t complain or take any kind of action against them. The new owners may not come to figure out that that house is subsidized and that the bitch rents and doesn’t own. And she told me that September day in ‘97 not to go in her yard? Ha! I’ll go in your yard anytime I feel like it, bitch! Your house is owned by the city. That makes it public property. Not that I’d ever feel like it as long as I don’t get woken up again. You bet your ass I’d feel like going over there if I suddenly knew I couldn’t get out of here for years. I’d go over there to do two things. To sabotage that basketball hoop and to set that bitch straight about any cars that come into that driveway for once and for all and permanently like I wish to hell I did from the get-go. Maybe I even would beat that little bitch into submission without giving a fuck about how small she is. All the while I was doing this, I’d push for eviction and hope the new people wouldn’t be just as bad, or as bad in different ways, like with two collies of their own barking non-stop just a few feet away from me.

In reality, though, we are moving. Therefore, I hope this third and final complaint doesn’t result in the bitch’s eviction. I highly doubt it, cuz it’s not that easy to evict someone. The bitch and her sick associates may not be able to burn our house down since it’s hard to torch a brick house, but I still wouldn’t put it past her cronies to shoot at our windows and shit like that if they left first. So far, God’s answered my prayers of letting us go first. Now all I have to do is hope and pray that he allows them to read my writings. Like I said, I would guess that they would. They read my “hate letter” after all, and I’d think that any human being would be curious. Especially with that enticing table of contents I stuck in, as well as other strange odds and ends. The key, pictures, etc.

Anyway, to wrap up the freeloader shit, let me cover some strange shit I saw over there yesterday. I’m more and more convinced, though, that the 4-year-old isn’t the only kid over there. There’s a baby over there too, that’s about one year old. This is why Bill’s over there even when the older kid isn’t. He’s been watching this baby.

As I said, the cock and his driver, along with someone in the backseat, came to get the mistake in the dark red car at approximately 8 AM. By the way, this car could also be considered to be cranberry-colored, crimson, fuchsia, burgundy, maroon, or cinnamon. Maybe not maroon or cinnamon, though, cuz there’s too much pink in it to be considered maroon and not enough red to be considered cinnamon. I’ll just stick with calling it dark red.

At close to noon, Bill left, then returned about 20 minutes later. What was weird was that he got out of the car, shuffled around to the passenger door, and took out one white plastic grocery bag. Why couldn’t he have just taken it out from the driver’s seat? He was dressed a little young for his age too, in a light brown leather jacket. It might’ve been suede, but I think it was imitation leather. I don’t remember the shirt, but he had on black denim pants. Either that or navy pants.

Just minutes after Bill returned, the cock came in alone in the dark red car. By the time I stepped up to the window, I saw him emerge into view from the passenger side of Bill’s car with this baby, then go into the house. About ten minutes later, he came out, got in the car, and quietly left. Cock wore a light brown shirt or tan you might say, with darker brown/tan pants.