It figures. It totally fucking figures! The delivery guy got here right on time and without having to call for directions or to be led in. As soon as I saw this, I knew that’d mean compensation. I knew that because he got here on time without a problem that would mean something would be broken or just go wrong somehow. I knew it because whenever we buy something, we always have to fucking get the broken one. Either that, or there’s just always a problem of some kind. This just goes to prove that old hexes followed us here and that life won’t be much different just because we moved out here. The washer works fine, but the dryer won’t start. Tom’s wondering if they wired the electrical wrong. Yeah, that’s something those Mexicans would do. I move away from having fuckers like them interfering with my life, yet I’m still affected by shitheads. I wish this dumb-ass pitiful excuse of a race would go back to Mexico where it belongs!

Later...

Finally, our horrible day is over! Bad things really do happen in threes (and my parents had three kids), because what I last wrote about was far from the end of it. So far everything’s going exactly as I vibed they would. We’re having to fix things in here just as much as we did in Phoenix. Even Tom reached his fill and made an appointment next Tuesday for a Palm Harbor to come out here. They’re nowhere near as stupid as Steven and Dan, but we’ve had it with having to fix these fucking idiot’s fuck-ups. We just want to get on with our lives. Not have to fix things that should’ve been done right in the first place. We probably could’ve fixed the dryer, but we shouldn’t have to. It’s their fucking job to supply us with an electrical box that works and the stupid Mexicans should’ve tested it out before releasing the house to us. Yeah, there’s no juice at all to this electrical box, according to Tom, who tested it out.

The territories we’re cursed in in life are just never going to go away. No matter where we live or what we do, we’re forever cursed. He’s gonna end up not having much more time than he did in Phoenix. Every time he gets a job done, that’s two more things he’s got to fix. How many more months are we gonna be in this house and continue to find things the lazy Mexicans fucked up on? These stupid illiterate Mexicans, as society calls them, don’t even know how to read or write. They’re God’s stupidest people. Why don’t they go to school for a while before they try building houses, the dumbasses!

Once again, God took what should’ve been a wonderful day and turned it into a nightmare. And if he didn’t, what did? Something sure as hell did. Can’t we just have something without having to pay for it like we do? As if $700 wasn’t enough of a payment for this washer and dryer! It’s like - leave us alone, God! Let us live our lives in peace for once. Can we ever go for a month in our lives without having to fix something? Without buying something broken?

So here are our next two crises: I went to wash a few more things since the washer worked fine the first time around because there’s plenty of space around here to hang lots of clothes, but the fucking thing quit filling with water before it reached its fill. Tom thought it might be sand clogged in the little screen at the end of the hose, but nope. A wire connected to the well pump shorted, thanks to shithead Dan. Tom fixed it, fortunately, but again, I was right when I said that that well would be a regular problem from the get-go. As soon as we can afford it, if people like Dennis will leave our wallet alone, we’ll get a backup water tank for our many well problems. That way we won’t have to be without water for a few days every month or two.

I asked Tom, what’s gonna break next, the dishwasher? He said if it does, we’ll just call them out here to fix it. Yeah, but we shouldn’t have to live that way, always having to fix things or call incompetent fools out to “fix” things. What’s this fuck gonna do anyway when it gets here next Tuesday, anyway? Forget to bring the globe we’re missing, and not fix the electrical box correctly? Or if it fixes it, will it break three other things while it’s at it? I’m not gonna allow them to fix the island trim, sand the guest room door, or paint the grease spots the fucking pigs smeared in a few areas and shit like that. I don’t trust them. They’ve disrupted our lives enough and fucked up enough. I’m just gonna give them a piece of my mind and let them know how pissed off I am that we have to fix all these things when we should be enjoying our new house. I knew it, though. I just knew it. But if I’d known our house was gonna be made by a pack of blacks, I’d have pushed to build our own house. You know what they say - if you want something done right, do it yourself.

Tom, who always handles these kinds of things better than I do, pointed out the good to all this and was glad we survived all we went through and came out of it okay.

The third and last thing that happened, although the day’s not yet over for me, is that I got stung by a bee in the neck in the house! Yeah, can you believe it? It scared the shit out of me and stung and burned like hell for a good 15 minutes or so, but now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d never know I was stung. It was so scary. After being outside, I was standing in his office talking to him while he sat at his computer when I suddenly felt something irritating me towards the left side of my neck. At first I thought it was an ant, but then it steadily got worse and worse and I knew no ant could inflict such pain and I flung my shirt off faster than I ever had before in my life screaming “Something’s in my shirt!”

Tom, thank God, got the stinger out with tweezers in no time at all, without causing any more stinging and burning. It sure was wild, but I knew I wasn’t gonna die or anything like that. He went looking for the bee sting and snake bite first aid kit, but couldn’t find it. I found it later, but it wasn’t needed anyhow. I simply put some Cortisone on it and took lots of Ibuprofen. What was weird about the whole thing, though, is that neither of us ever heard, saw, or felt the bee. We looked around the house afterward to see if we could see a dead bee, but nope. It must’ve quietly sat on my hair as I entered the house, then crept down just under my shirt collar before stinging me. Tom said that the stinger’s small, so you don’t really feel it much. It’s the poison you feel as the venom seeps out of the stinger. He said it’s possible it could’ve stung me and taken off to die a few seconds before I even knew I was stung. So, this is the second time in my life I got stung. This was a regular bee that stung me, cuz after a regular bee stings you, its stinger falls out and the bee dies. A yellow jacket can keep stinging you over and over. That’s what I got stung by at the beach when I was around ten. I was sitting on the couch in my bathing suit being chewed out by Dureen for God only knows what, when I thought I had an itch on my back. I reached around to scratch it and got stung on the finger.

Tom suggested we screen the pool too, as well as our future spa. We’ll start with an Arizona room and expand from there. Great! No more swimming in fear! I hated how I lost so many days to swimming in Phoenix when he wasn’t around all because of my fear of bees. Why waste the money being too scared to swim by myself? Even with him could get scary at times when there were so many fucking bees at once. They’re just too damn brave. They’re actually curious about people, but then as soon as you make a move - they’ve got you.

I was sitting thinking about how we should bitch to Mary about our horrible day just like we did when Dan was ruining our lives and making us miserable, then Tom came out and suggested it, too. So we did. Also, we’ve agreed to have them over next weekend, as long as nothing comes up with them.

Before all this happened, Melanie called. I was surprised to be called long-distance. I thought they’d mail me an appointment reminder like last time. She had knee surgery. She said something about them taking her kneecap off. Oh, God! How excruciating that must’ve been! I don’t know the details about why she had to have all this done. I didn’t want to keep her on the phone forever.

Remember how I mentioned the house rumbling and vibrating me awake? Well, this still happens every now and then, although I’ve been awake when it usually happens. It hasn’t woken me up since I last said it did a week or two ago. Today Tom got to hear it for himself for the first time. It happened at around 11 AM in the utility area, and then an hour later, I could feel it in the bedroom while he felt it down in the utility area. These rooms are at opposite ends of the house. Tom’s not sure what it is but said it felt like a huge truck going by. No way. I can’t imagine the house vibrating like that unless a train ran a few feet away, and besides, I could never see any trucks going by during these rumbles. All you hear when a truck goes by is its engine, but you never feel it. It never shakes the house. I told Tom I thought it was the house settling, but wondered if we could be on top of some ancient burial site, although I doubt it. He too, said it’s unlikely, cuz people long ago lived near water. Even if there were fossils under the house, why should the spirit of those who lived in the bodies be mad at us? They’re done with their bodies. Their bodies are dead. They don’t need them anymore. Now, they’d be just spirits in the sky or something like that. But then I discovered the salt shaker had fallen off the top back part of the stove and onto a burner. Classic poltergeist activity. Tom said it simply vibrated off. That’s a lot of vibration! I wonder how long these rumbling spells will continue and how many times they’ll end up waking me up. What? Is God up there saying to himself, “Ha! If she thinks she’s gonna sleep out here regularly, wait till I shake her awake every now and then.” What is this? Just because he knows stereos don’t go banging by here he’s got to shake me awake instead? Is he that determined to get to me in the sleep department? That’s desperate. Real fucking desperate. Why doesn’t he just have me have a kid then? Then I’ll really never get any sleep. It’ll be worse than the NHA was. Well, at least I know I don’t have to worry about him going that far and sticking a kid on me. I still don’t get why he paired me up with a virtually cumless dick, though. The only regimen I ever needed against pregnancy was a hysterectomy. Not forced safe sex.