Tom’s going to stop at his Mom’s after work before doing the grocery shopping. He meant to see her yesterday but had to do a tour at work that ran a little late. He said she mentioned giving us some money. I guess she wants to give us a little for all the flat tires and shit like that we’ve had. It won’t be much, though. Probably just $20, but it’s something.

Tom said that Don’s not in a hurry to call me back no doubt cuz he liked my answers given in the interview and isn’t worried about me being such a problem that needs jailing. Well, that’s all well and good, but how much am I gonna be forced to pay the courts monthly? And worse of all, how much do I have to be totally degraded into paying the freeloaders directly?

Tom says to try not to let the possibility of jail get to me, but sometimes that’s easier said than done. On the one hand, my logic says I should never get sent to jail for this, but life’s so unfair. People do get jailed for the wrong reasons and people do go free for the wrong reasons, too. Just because I shouldn’t go to jail for this, doesn’t mean I won’t. And just because I don’t have any vibes saying I’ll have to go to jail, doesn’t mean it’s not just wishful thinking that’s blocking out any negative vibes about a pending jail sentence. No one wants to “see” or “sense” that they’re going to jail, and therefore, I may not be able to see or sense it if it is fated to be. I just want this sick bitch out of my life! How many years have I been saying that now?

I sometimes wonder if I should take the new, stricter laws and use them to my advantage and drag them through the mud right along with me. I’m white, and I don’t have letters with their fingerprints or tapes with their voices on them so I couldn’t get them arrested or brought to court, but I could put them through the hassles of questioning. All I’d have to do is insist they did whatever to me, like swear they drove by here making threats or something like that, and they’ll at least pick them up. I’d hope so, anyway! But, I don’t think I want to lower myself to their level just because I’m pissed at them, which is exactly what she and the Mexicans did; they got pissed at what I had to say about them, couldn’t handle it, and went running to the piggies. They were never scared. They were Pissed with a capital P. So pissed that they weren’t afraid to implicate themselves in doing so. They weren’t afraid to look bad or incriminate themselves to get at me.

The land looks pretty dull right now. Actually, some of it’s kind of shabby looking with those damn wheat-colored weeds with the stickers. They go away in the summer, making the land look a little better, but this place certainly needs saguaros, prickly pears, queen palms, and whatever else. We talked about planting a bougainvillea and a bird of paradise bush and letting them grow wild. We had to trim the ones we had in Phoenix, but not here!

At night, when the moonlight is out, the moonlight almost gives off the illusion of there being a light dusting of snow on the ground with the way it illuminates the sandy dirt and the light-colored weeds.