It’s about 2 AM now and the only reason I’m writing at this hour is that Tate left the dayroom all lit up. I wonder why? She never did this before. Mary’s up, too. Mary and I only bought one envelope each because we didn’t know if they’d be dumb enough to give us 33¢ envelopes. They did, but they also enclosed 1¢ stamps without any extra charge.

Mary and I made a trade earlier. She had cramps and hadn’t gotten any Advil, so I gave her some of mine and she gave me some fruit punch drink mixes. I poured my shampoo into my old lotion bottle so I could use the shampoo bottle for my drinks like she does. If it wasn’t for her telling me to use toothpaste to clean it, I’d never have dissolved all those damn suds and it’d taste like soap forever!

Kara never came to see me last week. I wonder if she ever will again if I don’t kite her.

Mary told me I’m the best celly she’s ever had. I feel the same, along with Rosa. She doesn’t bug me when I eat, sleep, write, or listen to music.

I asked Tom if he’d get a gun between now and when I came home. Something small and wimpy that doesn’t need to kill as long as it’ll maim the person really good. Perhaps the chances of the freeloader paying me a home visit are next to nil, but that’s what I thought about going to jail, so you never do know. Better to be safe than sorry. If they do ever have the nerve to fuck with me again (if they live to talk about it), it’s going to be them that goes to jail, and I don’t care how black they are! Their color won’t save them a second time around. I’ll be as black as they are, for all they’ll know.

I can’t believe how much Mary likes to write! She writes way more than I do. I’ve been averaging a pad a month, but she averages one a week.