Tom just went to bed and I’m to get him up at 9:00 for some kind of problem in bed. Yeah, we’re looking at all kinds of excuses coming up this next week as I head into the mid-cycle zone. If I’d only known, I’d have made sure I was on birth control when we met since I can’t get pregnant anyway, but now it’d be useless. That’s because he’d go out of his way to stay the way he is as a cover. Why doesn’t he just not do it if he doesn’t want to or if he’s got problems?

This weekend he’s going to be helping Mary set up the new computer she’s getting, and doing Ma’s taxes. Not that I don’t want him to after all they’ve done for us, but that’s so God if you know what I mean; to have him do this on the weekend I might be fertile if I wasn’t infertile. I swear, it’s like God’s acting as if I can conceive, but that he’s doing things to make sure it doesn’t happen. For the thousandth time, though, why work so hard? Just have me need a hysterectomy and it’s a done deal. No more having to plan for him to be tied up or to have problems.

At the same time I don’t want a kid because I don’t want the hassles, burdens, and responsibilities that go with that, I’m pissed that I’ll never know for sure, despite what my vibes say if I could’ve gotten pregnant if he had cum regularly. I try not to be, cuz I know I’m not meant to have a kid. I know I was wrong about being meant to quit smoking, get on a schedule, etc., but you can’t always be wrong about things any more than you can always be right. I know this one for a fact. I’ve known it deep down since I was a little girl that I’d never have kids and I’d bet my life on it with sheer confidence.

Anyway, anything I was ever pissed at his ma for is all in the past and done and over with as far as I’m concerned. No, I couldn’t say that for my own ma because the things done to me were way worse than simply being used for time and money, and you’re talking over 30 years’ worth of major mental abuse. What Dureen and Art have done to me and put me through is unforgivable and unforgettable as far as I’m concerned, and to reunite with them would be reuniting with the same old cycle of abuse.

As I put together my final set of pictures to be printed out for Dureen, Art, and Tammy once I get new cartridges, I noticed the floor plan of this house says it’s 28’ wide. I had thought it was 26’ wide. It’s definitely 76’ long, though.

I seem to have had a bit of a sinus infection over the last couple of days, but it was so mild. All it did was make my throat a little sore, give me a pressure headache, and make me feel a bit rundown. At Tom’s advice, I took yesterday and today off from cleaning.

I was right about my theory about God trying to tell me I didn’t need the inhalers by having it get harder and harder for me to get them. I don’t need them. All I need is the over-the-counter inhaler I got called Primatene Mist. It helps with the tightness.

We now know what his “rumbles” are. At least we’re pretty sure we do. It’s a sonic boom by fighter jets that travel faster than the speed of sound. Regular commercial airplanes fly at around 400 MPH which is slower than the speed of sound. Neither of us is sure what the speed of sound is, but anyway, these jets fly anywhere from 500-1500 MPH, higher than regular planes where you can’t hear the plane’s engines. We just didn’t know they were allowed to do this over land. He said he’ll check online to see where the nearest Air Force base is. I had woken up right before a group of rumbles and he ran outside as soon as he heard it and said it was definitely not the house any more than a big vehicle. He said you could tell it was coming from outside the house and could feel pressure in the air which is what makes the house vibrate. His other theory was that maybe a mountain was being blasted to put a road through, but I’d go with the sonic boom theory first. When you’re awake, it actually sounds and feels kind of neat. It’s better than some rap-blasting freeloader who doesn’t give a shit or is deliberately trying to provoke you. What I don’t get, though, is why did this start when we got in the house? Why not before in the trailer? Did they just start training nearby, or what? If it isn’t sonic booms or any type of construction, then we might be looking at some poltergeist activity.

Later...

Still playing the fix-it game. God just won’t leave us alone. Not even for one week straight. It’s the well again, as usual, and as expected. My vibes say it’ll be a problem 1-3 times a week until we can get water tanks out here and abandon it for a more reliable source of water. Then God can break the car more often or attack the appliances in the house. I knew this was a $12,000 piece of shit that would be one problem after another. What if Tom can’t fix it this time around? Then what do we do? Go to a hotel? I don’t sense it, thank God, but who knows?

Because the weather was so beautiful, I wanted to take advantage of it before it got too hot, so I went around and opened some windows. I thought I found the bee that stung me sitting on the den window sill, but after I picked it up with tweezers and took a close look at it, it still had its stinger.

It’s so beautiful gazing out at the quiet, peaceful landscape. No dogs barking, not a peep out of Dan, no nothing. When I look out my office window, it’s sad to know that houses will block the view of the distant mountains where Chandler’s city lights glow and a row of distant palm trees that are on a nearby farm in just a few years.

I was so sure that it’d rain yesterday, but the wind came and blew the clouds away before they could open up on us. Tom said it’ll rain next week cuz that’s when Mary’s having a new roof put on (at least she can hire someone to do it for her), but I don’t know. Mary’s been cursed, but I don’t know if she’s as cursed as we’ve been. I think she has a better chance of getting better weather and a more competent crew. We’ll see, though. As selfish as this will sound, since I love Mary dearly and wouldn’t want to see her go through any shit of any kind, at least if she does get rained on or fucked over - it’s her problem and not ours. It’s nice to know that for a change, it’s out of our hands to have to deal with.

Later...

This time the well’s problem was a cheap part Gravity installed in the box on the power pole outside, which Tom’s gonna replace. He said the well’s not the problem. All it is is a hole in the ground with water at the bottom. It’s the parts up top that are the problem. Yeah, but the well is still a cursed object. That much I do know. It’s going to be a problem regularly and we don’t need it. But if we resort to hauling water, that’ll just take up the same amount of time it takes us to fix the well. What is this? A case of God not wanting us to get out of having to put the time into a water source? Is that why we have sonic booms here, too? Cuz God knows stereos don’t go banging by? (yet) Why does God always feel the need to make up the difference? No matter where we went, something would take up our time and something would be a noise source to us. Fine. We’ll keep the sonic booms and gunshots. Just as long as it doesn’t disrupt our lives. But the well - give us a break! We’ve had enough of the fix-it shit!! Let us live our lives. Just let us live our lives, damn it!

Anyway, speaking of our booms, Tom went online and discovered that they’re allowing jets to fly supersonic in lots of states. They’re not allowed to fly supersonic over Phoenix, which is why we’ve got them out here. They can only go over more remote areas. People have filed lawsuits about it, but it would never do them any good. Boys just have to be boys, and they’re like - tough. We’ve got to train these people.

Like I said, as long as they don’t do this for hours every day, smash our windows, or interfere with my sleep, it’s fine.

Tom told me an interesting story, and we also made a bet that naturally, I’ll win by a landslide. He said he’s told a lot of people about this, but someone put a curse on him in the late 70s when he was around 20, but he doesn’t remember who, where, or why. I thought he was putting me on at first, but he swears it’s true and that a guy at the race track once offered to buy his soul in exchange for better gambling luck. He said the guy said he’d give him tickets to Vegas to prove himself to him, but naturally, Tom was like - no thanks. I never heard of anyone capable of buying another person’s soul before. And why would they want to? Also, if they could make someone lucky at gambling, wouldn’t they want that person to be themselves? He doesn’t think this is the same person who put the curse on him. Who in the world would want to put a curse on Tom S, a man who gets along with everyone and that everyone likes, and how and why did they do it? He’s so sure of it, too. It made me wonder if someone put my curse on me, but I think my curse is all God’s doing and that it’s a generational curse that goes back God only knows how far. There’s no doubt our family was/is cursed. Doe had a negative bitch for a mother, Art had major health problems, me and my siblings went through hell with Doe as a mother, then Tammy has man/child problems, Sandy miscarries in her eighth month of pregnancy, Larry’s kid gets killed, and I’m not allowed to have a child if I want to, not to mention all the shit I went through with my health, staff members, neighbors, etc. That ain’t no “bad luck.”

Tom accepts his curse. He doesn’t like it, but he says there’s no point in dwelling on something that just is and that all he can do is just live with it. True, we can’t get rid of our curses as far as I know, but why are we cursed? Who did this to us and how did they do it? What person or thing could be so heartless and cruel? This thing’s allowed some pretty vicious things to happen to us. To put me through the wanting a kid for years - how can anyone do that to a woman? That’s practically inhumane and certainly no way for a woman to live! That’s so incredibly mean!

Anyway, I asked Tom if I was the only woman he didn’t cum regularly with and he said yes. Figures. Thanks, God. He says a big part of it is because of how we started; because we couldn’t just screw right away. Yeah, but isn’t that far enough in the past? Shouldn’t he have gotten over that and moved on by now? I never would’ve believed that my having to start slowly would have such an impact on him. However, we can screw just fine now and have been for years. It’s true that I didn’t think he’d be able to get inside me at first what with how big he is and how small I was as well as with my lack of experience. I’d only had it with a guy a dozen or so times before we met. And then I was limited for a while to what positions we did. I still have trouble being on top of him and doggy-style is impossible. Anyway, he said that some of the girls he’s been with were on birth control and some weren’t. Whatever. I don’t know what to believe. I mean, knowing how cursed I’ve always been when it comes to getting those I lusted for and for having good, problem-free sex, I can believe that yes, I’m the first one he’s been this way with. At the same time, though, it’s so hard for me to picture Tom cumming regularly. It just doesn’t seem like him and is hard to imagine.

Anyway, he still swears that if I go 30 days without mentioning it, we’ll screw 2-3 times a week and he’ll cum once a week. Uh-huh. And my hair will turn platinum blond, too. OK, OK, I said. Let’s settle this debate once and for all, but I say he’ll be just like he usually is if I went years without saying anything about it. So we bet that if I’m right after the 30 days, plus four weeks of seeing how the sex goes (and I’m sure he’ll have some excuse as to why he wasn’t right, like how busy he was, although God may see to it that this ends up to be true, knowing what we’re up to), I get Meli after April 7th. If he’s right he gets the faster Internet connection (satellite) before I get another doll. Well, I couldn’t be surer than I am of my social security number that I’m going to win this bet.

He went out to check the well’s pressure and said he could hear Dan and another male voice talking and that it was brightly lit up over there. He said he could hear the voices, but not make out their words. Ah, is Dan’s male companion a new boyfriend? I think he’s gay. I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me if he were.

The Dan at the joke of a well-drilling business is finally going to be hearing from me. I’ve had it with keeping my mouth shut regarding that lying incompetent piece of shit that’s caused us so much time, money, hassles, and mental anguish. I wanted to let him know just how lucky he is that I didn’t do more than send him a letter letting him know what a stupid con he is, and that I don’t care if he went to the police with the letter. I’m sure he will too since everyone out here seems to run to the cops whenever they have a problem with someone. No one fights their own battles. Anyway, no cop is gonna stop me from speaking my mind, and there was nothing I wrote in that letter that could bring any legal battles against me. I dare the cops to step out of line and come to me about this letter. In fact, I hope they do so I can be a pretty rich person, cuz I’ll sue the fucking shit out of them if they have the nerve to bullshit their way into this house to drag me to a station in Tonopah where Dan’s scam of a business is. I have a right to speak my mind and to think, feel, and believe as I do and I spoke out in a legit, harmless way. I didn’t bother to sign it or put a return address. The cock will know who it is unless it’s even ten times dumber than I thought it was. Here’s a copy of it:

Howdy there,

Just wanted to drop you a line and have a heart-to-heart with you, Dan. After all, they say confession’s good for the soul. Let’s just say that you’re the biggest lying, incompetent asshole I’ve ever known! You stupid, stupid cock. Not even your son has shit for brains like you do. First you lied to us about how deep you needed to drill our well just so you could get the bid, then you lied to us about when you’d do the well, then you had the nerve to lie to us yet again and tell us it’d take 3-4 days to be completed when it took you about 2 months. And you stupidly screwed up a million times along the way. You ran us dry paying for hotels when we could’ve and should’ve been in the house 6-8 weeks sooner than we were. You caused us a ton of lost sleep and mental anguish, and if it wasn’t for my husband I’d be doing a lot more than just giving you a piece of my mind, and I don’t care if you go to the police with this letter. I have a right to speak my mind about your joke of a business. You’re a con and I intend to have you and your fellow crooks out of business soon enough. There’s no excuse for the money and time you’ve cost us, not to mention the fact that we haven’t even had the well for a damn month and already it’s a constant problem. Fuses are blowing, wires are shorting, etc. Thanks for making our lives the living hell you made it, fucker!