Yesterday’s sex went from boring and too predictable to an exciting change of pace. His excuse of choice this time around was allergies, but I know it was fear. I still don’t know why he’s so afraid to address and deal with his fear of me conceiving after having no problem at all admitting to his phobia of dentists, but that’s his problem, isn’t it?

Anyway, the boring, predictable part was when he quit in the middle of sex before even getting on top. The exciting change of pace came when he went down on me and got me off, too. I was almost convinced he’d never go down on me again!

Shiny’s still missing and we both feel it’s more than likely that the little guy’s dead and not held up somewhere. I feel guilty in a couple of ways and very bad for Tom. The ways I feel guilty over it are that I didn’t take the time to try to make him an indoor cat which would’ve been safer (Tom has a point, though, when he said that that was never an option for us), and for wishing at times that that whiny cat would disappear.

Later...

I did some singing a little while ago with the speakers blaring and I don’t give a shit if next door heard it or not. In fact, I kind of hope they did, but I know better. If my music was hard to hear through the music room window, then it certainly couldn’t be heard through the bedroom windows with the sound blocks that are in them. That Mormon woman told me she couldn’t hear it when I once asked her about it. Anyway, last night turned out to be OK. The pickup returned at around 11:00, then left shortly after. The only time the dog across the street went off was last night. Ever since then, I haven’t seen or heard it. I think it was only here temporarily. Probably belonged to someone helping them move in. It couldn’t have been here all day, cuz there’s no way they’d keep a dog inside their house all day. Especially one that large. If it had been here all day, it would’ve been outside and we’d have heard it. I wonder, though, was that our last holiday here? Somehow, I doubt it was.

Tom said not to leave next door a note (I had contemplated leaving them a note thanking them for keeping the music down). Good or bad, notes out here are a bad thing, he says. He says they’re impersonal and not respectful, not that I give a shit about being personal and respectful to this N. I don’t get the respectful part of it, but no wonder that bitch mentioned leaving “little notes” in the way she did when she was running off her little list of things to me that pissed her poor black ass off. I always wondered why she acted as if I left her dead rats, rather than notes. I guess both the note and the content of the note really had that bitch in a frenzy! Anyway, I’m not gonna leave the note not just for Tom’s reasons, but for my own. I thought about it and then was like - why should I? Why should I thank them for something they’re supposed to be doing anyway? I’m not gonna thank them for not being outrageously noisy like they were a few weeks ago. People shouldn’t be credited for doing things they’re supposed to be doing anyway. I owe those fat freeloaders nothing as far as I’m concerned!

We were also talking about the different cultures within the Southwest and the Northeast. I naturally clash with people no matter where I go, but there are some differences out here that you won’t find back east. People are people no matter where you go, but we were talking about how people in the East use ATM machines less often. They tend to argue with people more and be more aggressive. They honk horns at each other more. It seems to me people out here are also more spiteful and vindictive.

Andy. Now that’s someone I could do without. My suspicions are ringing truer by the moment about his not really intending to drop off the pants, but intending to make me take time out of my weekend and out of my relationship that he’s so jealous of to go check for his fucking pants. No calls or pants all weekend. That little fuck! I mean, I’m so sick of this little shit’s immature games! Hasn’t he got anything else better to do with his time? Instead, he has to play control games with me. He just has to manipulate me. He just can’t accept my not wanting him to butt into my weekends. Well, people that can’t accept others get dumped, don’t they? Soon, Andy, soon! Oh, the kick he must get out of knowing he made me do something (check for messages/pants) on a weekend. Anything to be thought of and acknowledged in any way he can by me on the weekends. Well, I’m not gonna give him the reaction he wants, which would be to call him any time now to ask why the pants I looked out for never came. I’m not gonna play this game with him every weekend, and if he asks about it, I’m just gonna tell him I forgot all about it and forgot to even look for them. I’m not gonna bother calling him for a while. Let him wonder what’s going on for a change. I’m not playing phone or games with the little fuckaroo!

Tom painted the bedroom ceiling today, and parts of the utility area and the back room. He also packed some stuff and cut down the very tall grass out back so he can pick up roofing shit that was in the yard. I know Tom, though. He’ll put off picking up roofing till the grass grows back again and he has to cut it down again.

I had Katie out today. She’s so cute. She’s addicted to wheeling, so I can take her out while she’s on her wheel and set her down somewhere and she’ll just keep on wheeling away. She does hop off to explore somewhat, but she prefers to just keep on wheeling as if she’s still home! I had Porky out too. I try to rotate among the animals.

We plan on going to the bookstore on Friday, and tomorrow, we’re going to Palm Harbor’s factory and then to pick up some groceries. They just raised interest rates, of all fucking times to do so, but Tom says it shouldn’t hurt us and that we still have a shot at that model we want. I don’t know. It just seems so unlikely that God would allow me the house I want and the quietness I want. I just can’t picture it, but maybe my luck will change for the better, even if it means not getting out of here fast enough. Once again, we’re talking about a material thing that I can handle.