Since Tom never uses his Facebook account, we agreed to have me deactivate it for him. One less account for the black bitch to block. Really wish I’d thought to ask him about killing his account before she blocked him but oh well.

On Aly’s other Twitter account she talks of her New Year’s resolutions and one of them is getting rid of toxic things (and people). Can’t help but wonder if I’m one of those toxic people, even though we haven’t been arguing about anything, but I have been dumped by her before and deemed toxic and depressing. If she dumps me, she dumps me. Tom’s the only person that matters while others are just a bonus that can do what they want. Still prefer to remain friends with her but I’m used to being dumped and the older I get, the less seriously I take most things.

The planes are running later and driving me crazier. There is no escaping the fucking things. Twice I filled out noise complaint forms online at the airport site and twice I’ve been ignored. I’d like to think it’s just a holiday thing but this actually started around September. I think they changed flight paths and that this is the way it’s going to be indefinitely. It’s sad that something up there feels I should be so damn cursed with noise that I can’t even have peace at night anymore. The one thing I used to look forward to was the peacefulness of the nighttime but now that too, is gone. The best I can do is hope I don’t hear them in the summer like we don’t hear the freeway at that time.

Going to be seeing the nurse in 9 hours about my blood pressure and we may stop at Goodwill on the way back. Depends on how tired I am. I got up at 10 which means I’ll sleep through New Year’s on the East Coast and won’t be able to watch the ball go down in Times Square live, but I’ll be up in time for New Year’s here which is a good thing in case fireworks wake me up.

Last night’s dream was pretty gross. We decided to shop for rats and for some reason we thought white rats were our only option where we went. Tom asked a young girl sitting at a desk for a white rat and she said we had to go pick one out ourselves. He seemed annoyed with this answer but didn’t say anything. So we went into this room where another woman that I seemed to know and like sat behind another desk assisting customers. I waved to her on my way in, not sure she saw me. Then I was delighted to find a cage full of rats with all different colors and markings. I was even happier to find my favorite, a cinnamon rat.

Yet once I got home I fried and ate the poor thing, saying that it didn’t look like a cinnamon or a Berkshire and that I should have gotten two of them since I ended up eating one. It seemed to look and taste like fried chicken. Gross dream!