The series The Others is already over. Isn’t that pitiful? They used to make hundreds of shows per series back before the late 80s. What is this with only making 10-20 episodes per series? Everything on TV is repeats, repeats, repeats!

Dusting 33 dolls was a much bigger task than I thought it’d be. It seemed to take me forever, and there’s still more work to be done. Every few months I’m doing the cleaning that I don’t regularly do weekly, like the tops of the kitchen cabinets, and shit like that.

Tom has one of his famous colds. I knew it, too. I just knew it. Last weekend I told him I didn’t want to have sex. Well, normally, he “gets me back,” so to speak. He goes and does the same thing to me and comes up with a reason himself to get out of sex. I swear that just the other day I said to myself - no sex again this weekend, cuz you know he’ll have some kind of excuse to not screw cuz you wouldn’t last weekend. Then sure enough, here he is telling me today he has a cold. Is he lying? I don’t know. Although his timing is quite a coincidence, he is due for a cold, and he says everyone else on his shift is sick. He can’t go more than 3-4 months without a cold, but the good thing about it is that I know I won’t get it. If I caught colds as easily as I used to back east, look how often I’d have to go down with him and get sick, too!

Anyway, I know I should probably be sad about this, but I no longer have any desire for sex with him. If I knew we’d never screw again, I’d be perfectly OK with it. It’s for two reasons. One is that I’m sick of it, cuz it’s not new and exciting anymore. Two is because of all the lies, manipulations, and controlling he’s done in bed all these years to ensure I never got pregnant (with the exception of the 15 times or so that he dared to squirt in the “right” time frame. Yeah, after I’d convinced him I was psychic and that one of the things I saw was that I’d never have a child). I know I could never get pregnant, and I know I don’t want a kid and its burdens and responsibilities, but I don’t think I could ever forgive him for what he’s done/does in bed. It was/is totally wrong of him, and more so, it’s unnecessary. He need not worry about a baby that cannot be made, and this tells me that it’s more than just fear of pregnancy. It’s his stubbornness and his desire to be in charge of the sex and what happens with it. He wishes I was deprived and unhappy with it. When I used to be, he was amused by it. I know he was. It was obvious. Any idiot could see so no matter how much he’d deny it. Well, I’m pretty much permanently turned off and I don’t think anything can be done to rekindle my desire. We can’t make it new and exciting again, and even if he lost his fears and decided to show me how good I am in bed like he says I am, I still don’t see how my desire would be rekindled. I love the man to death outside of bed and look forward to being with him forever, but he’s old, dead news bed-wise. I’ll take my fantasies over him and his dry dick any day.

Last night was his last night at work. He goes in Monday morning at 6:00 and has to leave here at 5:00 and get up at 4:00. The night shift gave him a “good-bye and good luck” card that they all signed and a cake. He brought me home a piece.

I finally got to start printing again and began printing out pictures for Dureen and Art, but the fucking cartridge was defective. Yeah, I know. I just had to be the one to get the damn defect, too. I did get Dureen and Art’s letter printed out, and the 40 or so pictures that I printed, which are a bit grainy and blurry (the ink leaked) will go to Paula. I’ll enclose a few with each of my regular letters to her. Anyway, I’m beginning to wonder if something up there doesn’t want me printing these letters/pictures to Dureen, Art and Tammy.

I shortened the rat’s cages. I was sick of popping off their shelves, which they’d piss all over, and have their shit and piss go flying onto the walls and carpet, so I shortened their cage and left them with just their tubes. That’s all they really need.