I couldn’t get into the book. Well, I’ll just wait till Thursday. Thursday, after court, we plan on stopping at a used bookstore.

This is the quietest Labor Day I’ve experienced in the last decade. Well, that might be stretching it a bit. Labor Day of ’96 and ’97 were basically the only noisy ones of the last decade, thanks to the blacks. The blacks were quiet for ‘98’s cuz of my city letter, although I’m not sure. I thought I didn’t send the letter till late ’98 or early ’99 (I should’ve sent it in March ’96), but I know there was a Labor Day when they surprised me by going somewhere else for a change. Other than that, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s, everything had to be celebrated at their place at our expense. The Mexicans, on the other hand, weren’t any noisier than usual cuz to them, Labor Day was like any other day, cuz they were too lazy to work. The blacks did work, and I don’t get how they got a free house any more than the Mexicans did. Not only do I not get how you can get a free house simply for being too lazy to work, but I also don’t get how you can get one if you work. If you work, why do you need someone to give you a house? Not that we’d want one, but Tom works, so could we get a free house? I doubt it. I have a feeling we’re too white, and we’re certainly childless. All the hand-me-outs go to those with kids, handicaps, and skin that ain’t white.

I’m surprised it’s been as quiet around here, too. I didn’t expect it to sound like Phoenix, but I thought there’d be some music and gunning, but nope. Not yet, anyway. If anyone blasted off last night, I wouldn’t know it, cuz I didn’t turn the fans off to check. Even the pickup hasn’t returned to making several trips in and out per day.

We screwed earlier, and what a fucking joke, as usual. I not only had the irritation I know I’m stuck with for the rest of my life, but he’s so damn predictable. I told him I’d stop him if he was too soft to go in there. “Talk less,” he told me. 

I thought communication was important in a relationship. Well, obviously not to him. Especially when it concerns sex and when you’ve got a husband who dominates sex according to how he wants it, without a care for what you may want. He asked if I wanted to wait cuz I didn’t seem so excited (gee, I wonder why!) but I said it was up to him. So I did him by hand for about 5 minutes, and he went up top for about 1, then suddenly stopped to say he thought our potatoes which were in the oven would be done any time. Any normal guy would’ve carried on till the timer beeped, but he was gonna cum. I know he used that as the perfect excuse to quit before he squirted, but why? Why make such a huge sacrifice when there’s such a thing as birth control? I still don’t get that, and I obviously never will.

He researched potbellied pigs some more online with me in the room with him, and I don’t want one. A miniature pig gets to be a whole 125 pounds and they cost over $100.

We tried researching p-dogs to see if we could find out why I haven’t seen them much lately, but we’re still not sure what they’re called out here. What they call prairie dogs is in the Midwest and is a lot bigger than these. I don’t know if they’re going out of season or if there are snakes around scaring them into hiding.

Later...

I gotta stop saying how I haven’t heard from the freeloaders, or whoever, cuz again, right after I last wrote, the fucking freeloaders went blasting by pretty loud. Tom and I could both hear them from his office. Fucking mother-fucking freeloaders!!! I HATE THEM!!!!!!