I asked Tom to skim Stepping into Psycho before I submit it for publication but he said it was too good to skim and asked if I could wait because he wants to read it thoroughly. No problem. I never mind being “too good to skim.”

Was woken up once by something loud, and before I fell asleep I could VERY CLEARLY hear something loud thunder by. We definitely didn’t “Laubsauger” the traffic. Laubsaugers can’t be heard over the sound machine. The really loud vehicles can, though. So we basically wasted $400 and two hours of his time. The only way to stop being woken up by traffic is to not sleep practically right on top of it.

Because of the way the blackout shades are no longer set inside the window frame, the room is a little lighter than I’d like, but it’s no big deal. If I can close my eyes, place my hands over my eyes and not see it darken, the room isn’t too light. It’s when any light shines through my closed lids that darkens when I cover my eyes that it’s too light.

For $200, Tom found a traveling mechanic who’s going to meet him in the parking lot where he works to replace the power steering hose.

To my utter amazement, the Twenties went elsewhere for Christmas. But would they have happened to remain here with lots of door-slamming company had I been awake to hear it?

Roomba may need a new battery. It was flashing red and I was getting a charging error message when I was trying to charge it after using it. But Tom fixed it when he got home because its light is green again.

Remember that Kevin S I first thought might be connected to Maliheh but that doesn’t seem to be? I noticed he’s friends with a Janet M that looks remarkably like Mary G. The only thing that doesn’t smack of her is that she’s listed as being born in 89 and her profile picture reflects that of a 28-year-old as well. But she’s got the same gray eyes, the same pouty blowjob lips, and a similar body from what I can see in her selfie.

I sent messages to both her and Kevin asking if she was the Mary I knew, and I got ignored by Kevin and a simple “hi” from Janet. That right there seems a little odd and I realize that anyone can put any birth date and profile picture on their page. The only thing is that Mary wouldn’t have been taking selfies when she was 28 years old because she was locked up.

Just had a chat with Janet right after writing this. Some of the things she said didn’t make sense, suggesting someone who’s either not all there or not very smart, but I’m pretty sure it’s not connected to Mary. She’s just a young, bored, jobless Arizonan with poor writing skills and low reading comprehension skills as well.

I’m now up to spring of 2000 with my Grammarly project. OMG, how could I have been not just so naïve but so damn fucking stupid?!?! Really, I didn’t have to go to jail. I seriously didn’t! But there I was stupidly opening the door to the guy with the clipboard claiming to be from the electric company and wanting to verify the address because of “money owed” or something like that after reciting the date we had our utility pole put in. Clearly the cock was a cop with yet another bullshit story just like the “Robin H” story hoping to verify the address to send a subpoena to. The only thing that didn’t make sense is that while I realize those with the electric company don’t usually wear uniforms (at least I don’t think they do), shouldn’t the police have known that the house didn’t have any mail service going to it, and wouldn’t they have been able to get our PO Box address that we had at the time?

I still say that had to have been a cop. Once I got my two cents worth in the mail those fuckers decided they just weren’t going to leave me alone no matter what. They were everything they accused me of and much, much more.

But still… had I just been smart enough to exercise a little common sense I never would’ve had to go to jail. Even when it got so far as being dragged into Florence thanks to Tammy and Bill, I still wouldn’t have gone to jail had I not gone to court. Unless the cops kick down our doors and physically take us to jail, we never have to go on our own and risk losing our freedom and so much more. To this day I’m just as pissed at myself as I am at them. Do I regret speaking my mind? No. I will never regret the right to speak one’s mind. I’ll always be big on freedom of expression. Anyway, I can’t change the past but I can guarantee one thing in the future and that’s that I’m never going to “pay” or allow myself to be punished simply because I had something to say that no one wanted to hear. My days of being criminalized for something I said or wrote are long over and they’re never coming back. The day I ever do cross that line into the realm of what people don’t want to hear, and I mean really don’t want to hear, I won’t be alive to be made to pay and suffer for it.

Another really weird thing is how Tom and I happened to have the same dream around this time when someone was knocking on the door. Only mine was in the morning and his was in the middle of the night. Then there were the footsteps I swore I heard.

Was it a coincidence? Was the house haunted? Was it the police?

But if it was the cops, why break in and walk around our house without taking anything or arresting me? I can see them knocking in the morning in hopes of picking me up for failing to appear but at 2 AM? That’s about when Tom had his dream. I know they love to do drug busts around 6 AM but 2 AM seems like a bit of an odd time. I guess we’ll never know. Could’ve been some strange wild animals for all we knew.

I missed voice blogging so I decided to use Tumblr’s call-in line again. The only problem with that is that it doesn’t always post to the blog. But sometimes I just want to talk my thoughts out rather than write them or use speech-to-text where I have to edit stuff.

Again I had a nightmare where Tom died suddenly and unexpectedly. That’s like the third or fourth nightmare like that this year! :( :( :( Should I be worried? Really hope it isn’t a sign of anything and that if there’s any meaning to it it’s just going on in some of those parallel lives I may be living.

I don’t know what killed him but I was talking to someone about it and Miss Perfect was there as well.

Then we were living in a small house which I could see very clearly. Still can even awake. It was tiny, old, and simple. It was a one-bedroom, one-bath. Tom and I were playfully wrestling with each other when we spotted cops approaching the place. Not wanting them to get the wrong idea and think we were attacking each other, I slipped into the bathroom which was straight across from the living room’s only window. The kitchen and bedroom were to the left of the living room. The right living room wall was windowless.

Then I stepped back into the living room to turn down the stereo I had playing in there and that was the end of that dream.

In another dream, Andy was “sewing” something on my inner wrist. Eventually, I told him to stop because it was hurting too much. Then he reached for some kind of ointment and said that that was what was going to put me to sleep. In the dream, I knew he meant that it would numb my wrist.

Then there was some dream where Tammy was standing with us in a double-car garage that seemed to be ours. It was loaded with all kinds of stuff, including a van straight out of the 60s or 70s and a bunch of boxes.

In the last dream, Tom and I were living somewhere else, and from the sound of it, it wasn’t in an adult community. We were sitting at our kitchen table talking to Joy. Not far outside the open kitchen window, we could hear kids playing. Joy asked how we liked it there and I said that other than it being noisy, nodding my head toward the window, it was okay. She asked if we thought we’d always be in the city and Tom said no.

Speaking of Joy and the park, I don’t know if Tom picked it up but the mail site says we got a letter from the park yesterday. I wonder what it was. They better not start any kind of harassment campaign against us. If they do I’m going to think that somehow, they do know I was the one to complain about the loud car. Why they would pick on someone who complained about something legit and reasonable, but as I learned in Arizona, “reasonable” doesn’t count when it’s complaining. Complaining is complaining to most people. They don’t like it and they don’t want to hear it no matter how right you may be.

And what the hell is up with my nieces? I’ve always sensed that they were selfish, ungrateful, spoiled and even a little narcissistic, but you mean to tell me that neither of them could respond to my message asking if they were at their mom’s recently? Sarah hasn’t seen the message even though she’s been online (or maybe she has and marked it as unread) but Becky has and she ignored it. I really thought I would have gotten a polite thanks for the incense by now.