The new mattress pad is nice, but I found it too thick to cut up into liners for the pigs so the old one will just get thrown out.

I feel pretty well-rested for one who woke up twice to pee, once with horrible shoulder pain after lying on it wrong, TMJ pain because my mouthguard was too big, and then a funny-ish nightmare about kissing Suki and my lips getting stuck to hers. I woke up just as I was beginning to panic but managed to pry a corner of my mouth from hers.

I re-boiled the mouthguard and resized it to my lower teeth. Still comes up easily, though, since it’s not molded exactly to my teeth and is a bit wide for me since I’m small. Ordered some kids’ mouthguards, though I’m sure I can use these for a while.

While he grabbed something to hopefully help his tendonitis, I also grabbed a $10 pack of a dozen nail strips all with colors I like. Wearing one a week, I’ve now got a year’s supply unless Aly wants some more. I suggested the cuticle oil that I’ve been using. In just a few days I swear I have new growth, based on the position of my nail stickers. I use it after my shower and again before bed.

Had a feeling come over me saying that our forever house is going to be a 2006 but that makes no sense being magnets for older stuff and only having so much money. I’m sure it will be the '70s or '80s. That’s still a step up from the '40s-'60s places we usually end up in.

Sometimes I don’t know who’s worse, our nation’s thugs (notice they’re never totally innocent) or the pigs that think their job is to play judge, jury, and executioner when in fact their job is simply to arrest suspects. It’s up to the courts to decide if they’re guilty or not. SMH, at least the ped isn’t going to be assaulting anyone else sexually in the future or beating up on his family.

I wish they wouldn’t put so much shit in the news. It only sparks riots and other problems, and well, is it really my business what goes on between a thug and a pig in Wisconsin? They should at least delay things for a year or so, not to mention the fact that some of us are sick of hearing about the same damn subjects day in and day out.

The other day I was thinking about how a part of me misses emotions. I mean real emotions. Not that I would want to be as emotional as I used to be but age, experience, maturity and EMDR have definitely dulled them for the most part. I’ve come to see, though, just how much my dying hormones affected my emotions which in many ways affected my creativity. I don’t want to be as angry as I used to be. I don’t want to have any reason to feel stressed and depressed to the degree that I used to. But sometimes I miss having fun crushes on whoever wherever for they often acted as great muses for stories.

And then one of my old muses was there in my dreams…Nane. I still wouldn’t want her back in my life but that doesn’t mean she can’t be in some of my stories. Like this funny one that was based on the idea for Far from Home where she let me stay in her apartment for the sake of Christiane who died after I’d been staying with her but does all kinds of things to mess with me while I always remain one step ahead of her, in a sense. So I’m working on a story idea but not the one I had for NaNo. It’s called My Little Slave.

The funny part of the dream was that Nane wouldn’t let me come and go from the apartment while she was working because she didn’t want me to have a key to the place, so she told me it was either in or out. Not wanting to walk around aimlessly in a foreign country that gets cold and snowy, I opted to stay in. Nane ordered me to stay at the kitchen table unless I had to use the bathroom while she was gone (I at least had my own laptop I could use), insisting there were cameras all over the apartment and would make me a casserole of whatever kind the night before which would serve as my food for the following day. LOL, so I’m going to add to and expand on that idea.

Later...

Last night, the very mean, ugly and butchy Mary D popped into my mind unbidden. The one who trashed my apartment and attacked me in the late '80s when coming to pick up a record I’d borrowed for prank calling her at the house she lived in with her twin sister and BIL.

Oh, I remember it quite clearly. She came in without a word and stepped into the living room where I handed her the album. Then she picked up one of mine and smashed it on the entertainment center I had at the time. At first I don’t think I said anything because I was stunned. Next thing I knew she was toppling over that, the organ I had, and then she was throwing punches at me. I began throwing them back as hard and as fast as I could but it didn’t do me any good at all. Then she ripped the phone out of the wall, knocked me down on my back, straddled me, and proceeded to beat me in the face with the phone all the while screaming, “Call me, Jodi! Call me!”

I tried to tell her I loved her to get her off of me but she only screamed, “No! You never loved me!”

Damn right I didn’t!

But why didn’t I call the cops on her? I guess because I was never one to run to the pigs with my problems with others and had lost faith in the system. Besides, I never knew where she lived. I didn’t know at the time that a name and a number would have been enough for the cops since it was their job to track her down, but I doubt they would have put much effort into it.

Fortunately, I only had some bumps and bruises but nothing that required me to go to the hospital. I vaguely remember her calling to gloat about the attack saying, “I thought you were tough” or something like that and that she had “no intention of beating the shit out of me.”

My guess is she fought me her hardest but if she didn’t, thank God for that much because she ended up being a lot stronger than I would have guessed. I should have recognized the signs too. They were there. But young naive little me didn’t catch on when she spoke about her and others wanting to beat up some girl one time and then speeding dangerously in the car another time when I said something that pissed her off. She admitted that one was immature of her when I told her it was.

Thank God even more that I was never attracted to her. I can just imagine the hell I would have gone through being in a relationship with her.

Although she later told me she felt bad for attacking me, and while I know it was wrong of me to prank her, she’s part of what made me a very defensive and angry person. Apology or not, I would absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE a rematch with her. I’m just about a hundred percent certain the outcome would be very different a second time around. Just a feeling.

But would anything up there send anyone after me it knew I could take? Of course not!

Anyway, I wasn’t the writer or the person I am now, so I know I didn’t mention it much way back when. It was November of 1988, I just found, and I only wrote one quick paragraph in regard to it.

Didn’t know much about her but I swear she said something about her and another girl being raped by some guy and that the other girl “didn’t make it.”

Maybe that was why she was so angry and violent.

Realizing that the world has gotten so damn noisy no matter what (yeah, the cock is sawing again), I think we may as well forget rural. What would be the point if we’re still going to hear shit? We may actually hear more than just saws and loud vehicles when you add in the kids, dogs and boom stereos. Unless we get a piece of land so big that we can’t afford it or it’s in a shitty climate, we can never get far enough away not to hear people. So we may as well stay in a park and head for the coast so we can at least visit the beaches. The Venice area on the Gulf side may be ideal. I’m just tired of running from what I can’t escape. Still want to get as far away from the street as possible, though. Listening to shit while I’m awake is one thing. Being woken up by it is another.

And if there’s one thing I hate about Tom is that he never wants me to complain to anyone about anything. I do understand his paranoia to a degree, really, I do. But what are we supposed to do? Take shit all our lives and never say anything?

I can’t complain to the park about anything because A, he would rather give in to their every demand as if we’re children even though they work for us and we’re the ones paying them, and B, because the fuckers will only counter complain.