Woke up at 118 pounds and even shit a little, too. I decided that whether or not I shit, it’s my body, and I intend to lose weight once and for all. I doubt I’ll get down to 100 pounds, but I won’t quit till I’m at least 110, preferably 105. I’ll do the hard work, but this time, I’m gonna get results and my hard work is gonna pay off!

The census people left a note under the front door. It’s amazing that their knocking didn’t wake me up, although the storm did at 7:30, (must be for waking Doe up and calling Bill) but I had had 7 hours of sleep, so it was OK. I wonder why the census people want to talk to us. We mailed in the census form already. They left a number to call or else they’d be back within a couple of days. I’ll have Tom call them so they won’t end up waking me. Dodging the storms is enough when it comes to my sleep, and they’re not like the military which hasn’t returned to flying yet. It can storm at any time of night or day.

I left Bill a few messages yesterday while he was at work, speaking my mind, and no doubt pissing him the fuck off. The cock has a regular machine that only lets you talk for about a minute, but that was enough. I have nothing else to say to the shitfuck. It just hit me, though, that I may have picked the worst day to leave these messages, cuz he may have come home with the kids. If he still has them on weekends (which Tammy must love so she can be alone with Mark), then I’d think he’d go straight to their house to pick them up after work on Fridays. If this is what happened, he probably erased the messages as soon as he heard me so the kids wouldn’t hear what I had to say about him, whereas he might’ve been a bit more likely to have heard me out if he were alone. Either way, he should’ve gotten the general idea by now, and now he has the stress of worrying/wondering what I’m gonna do next and when.

I also called Doe a couple of mornings ago at 6 AM her time, to see if they still existed, and at that number, so I could know if they’d be likely enough to get my mail. I figured they’d still be alive and at the number anyway, and I really think they’ve got another 10-20 years to go. You know the wicked die old.

Speaking of dying, my beautiful white silky mouse died. Meanwhile, the remaining six mice, Butter Rum, Gizzy, Brownie, Cow, Oreo and Freddie, are all living together.