Let me get caught up with the freeloaders before moving on to better, important things.

Yesterday was a pretty active morning for some of the many freeloaders in that household. At 7:00, a maroon and gray van that I saw at their “housewarming” party, pulled up at the curb honking its horn every minute for 5 minutes, till someone finally came out, got in the passenger seat, and took off.

A little later, a gold pickup came and did some honking.

Lastly, to honk up to the curb, was an AAA Cab, which honked on and off for 5 minutes. The driver was a Mexican, so that explains some of the rude, obnoxious honking right there. He went to the house at one point, but he didn’t take anyone with him, so I guess someone either called in the wrong address, or the freeloaders changed their minds and didn’t have the decency to call the company. Why do these subhumans need vans, pickups, and cabs anyway, with a car and a van of their own?

The freeloaders have been trashing our yard with cigarette butts and beer cans. Typical, typical, filthy, fucking freeloaders! Even before we ever spoke a word to each other they did this (it’s just escalated since our childish sickos have been more and more of a problem to us), and they’ll do it to the next people that live here, too. That is your classic Mexican; trashing other people’s yards. They’re just so fucking bold, too! You gotta have a death wish for sure if you’re that brazen enough to trash someone’s yard. They came into this neighborhood totally asking for trouble. They may as well have brought signs in saying, fuck this neighborhood and the people in it. We’re gonna force our noise on you, we’re gonna trash your yard, we’re gonna totally shit on you for no Goddamn reason! Fucking, motherfucking freeloaders!!! I’ll bet you my animals that these freeloaders won’t even make it to 40 years of age before somebody kills them. They’re totally asking to be shot! And of course, they can trash our yard and get away with it and I can’t. If I threw garbage in their yard, I’d have to dodge being subpoenaed. I feel like these freeloaders can and will get away with everything they’ve done to me and like I can’t do squat about these shits but take whatever they dish out to me. I want soooooooo bad to go over there and just beat the living shit out of these fucking assholes! However, just like with 95% of the things in life, you can’t always do what you want, for they’d definitely shoot me, and unlike in the past, I don’t have a death wish.

Maybe their butts and cans are my punishment for the bottle I gave the blacks, and if so, who punishes the blacks and the Mexicans for the shit they did to me? I just hope that either way, God will punish them and the blacks that used to live there. They’ve done way more to me than I ever did to them. The worst I ever did to these freeloaders was cuss them out and threaten to shoot their dog (the previous freeloaders). Meanwhile, between the two, I’ve had to endure 4 years of noise harassment and stress.

What I wonder is, how much are these freeloaders going to interfere with us trying to sell this place? It’s not gonna look very good showing a house with a yard that’s littered with trash. Trash that obviously came from next door. No one’s gonna want to live next to that but a pack of scummy Mexicans that do the same thing and are just as noisy, yet there’s no guarantee that we can get freeloaders to look at/buy the place. I’m just glad these people are fairly dormant during the day and I hope they stay that way while we’re still here. That way, there’s less chance a potential white buyer will come to look at the place during one of their antics since they’ll probably come looking during the daytime. The earlier they come, the better the chances of the freeloaders being out of sight and sound.

The freeloaders are gonna be getting a little more than just typed journals of their bullshit, cuz Mary’s read them a tape. Yeah, we had so many blank cassettes that I felt it was about time I used one. It won’t cost any more postage, so I had Mary tape them a tape of their stuff, some of the edits, and bits and pieces of mumbo jumbo from old journals.

I’ve heard about 5 bangs since 4:00 just like I did yesterday, but can’t say for sure it was them. I haven’t spent much time in the bedroom since I got up after midnight, but it probably was them. What other idiot around here would be out bopping around and banging shit at 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning?

OK, that was a definite bang from next door. A loud one, too. Keep it up, fuckers! For the last two days, they’ve started this shit at 4 AM and continue on till sunup, around now, at 5:30, when most of them crash. They crash with the sunrise and get up with the sunset.

Later...

In the 6 hours I’ve been up I’ve cleaned the counters and stovetop, and done the bathroom floor. Yesterday he began putting on new baseboards that you glue on in the kitchen and bathroom and pulled up the bathroom carpet. I could’ve shot him for using carpet tape like I could’ve shot myself for doing the wall art. It was a bitch to get up, but if ever I felt like I’ve contributed something, it was today. It took me nearly an hour to do, which saved him valuable time. Then I mopped the floor.

I still have to change the rat and pig’s cages. The mice are fine as they are, though. I also have to do the grocery list, the dishes, and scrub the kitchen sink.

I moved Bailey and Maria out of the bedroom so that they won’t get hit with dust when the sound blocks are removed.

Tom’s mom asked him if I’d feel safe out where we’re moving. Bet she didn’t ask if he’d feel safe. I know people mean well, but you know, this really offends me. What? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t feel safe? Well let me set the record straight - I’m no more fearful of living out there than any man would be, OK? Also, people are kidding themselves if they think a man is any safer from a burglar or a homicidal maniac than women are. When killers kill, they kill anyone, of any gender. People that break in houses, be it to rip you off or cuz they’re maniacs, almost always bring guns cuz they don’t know if there’s gonna be dogs or a bunch of people waiting for them, so they usually use guns. If they’re crazy, they’re crazy, and they’ll kill a man just as easily as a woman. If they’re burglars who intend to kill, they kill cuz they don’t want to leave any witnesses. A man can be a witness, too. So, if I’m not safe out there, neither is he, unless he was out at the time some gun-twirling cock came to the house. If they were dumb enough to come unarmed, and if there was just one or two of them, then I’d be doing the killing. With my bare hands. I’ve certainly never killed before (just came close a few times, and wanted to a million times), but I know it’s something I could do as easily and as remorselessly as I could kill a spider if my life or my husband’s ever depended on it.

I look at moving out there and getting broken into or killed as I do with the kid, the chances of it happening is one in millions, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna live in fear and limit myself to where I go and what I do. As Tom says, you deal with what life brings, and like I said, when we’re fated to go, we’re fated to go. Meanwhile, you just hope for the best in life and try to get all you want/can in life.

I also doubt we’ll be that secluded. I’m sure we’ll be able to see 4-5 houses from ours and that while we won’t hear kids and dogs much, we’ll still hear almost as many stereos as we do here. That’s only because these bassy things are so potent. Even when they’re not that loud, they can easily permeate through walls miles away.

Later...

I just turned the sound machine on in the living room since the dog across the street decided to go off, and it’s not just one dog, either. It looks like she has a little puppy with her.

Tears of mixed emotions such as excitement and anxiety sting my eyes as I think about moving, but they rarely fall. Maybe when it’s over. It was like that for me in Norwich. The tears of relief and happiness of getting out of there didn’t fall till afterward. It’s usually after one gets out of an uncool ordeal that their emotions spill forth.