It just occurred to me that I didn’t hear from Scribd yesterday. It could be due to the holidays, but I really doubt I’m going to hear back from them. The question is whether or not to take some other course of action or just let it go. I’ll probably just let it go since whoever/whatever is behind it can’t be making any more money than I did and that certainly wasn’t much. It’s just that it reminds me of how I’ve always felt that I’m not only not meant to make money but meant to be a profit to others. Oh well. Still can’t be much of a profit. If it isn’t a screw-up between sites and if it isn’t a random person, funny how the black bitch in Arizona is the first person to come to mind where that’s concerned. But would she be that sophisticated enough to pull it off? Would she be that stupid? Perhaps out of anger and the frustration of not being able to legally screw me again like she tried to do 9 years ago, she would. Don’t know if she would have come up with the idea on her own or set it up on her own, though, if she did have anything to do with it. But I’m sure she would get a real kick out of the thought of making whatever she could off of me at my expense.

I read online that applying ACV to AKs was recommended so I’m trying it on what I suspect is Bowen’s. Doubt it will do me any good, but it can’t hurt to try.

I was going to work on all three stories at once and then edit them when I was out of ideas but that’s easier said than done so I’ll finish the story I started last month before I tackle the others.

Guess I’ve gone from writing suspense that deals with obsession to suspense that deals with revenge! Let’s just say it can be kind of therapeutic depending on who the characters are. :-)

Some of them have been showing up in my dreams, like Termite Tammy. I killed her by kicking her really hard in the head only her blood ran dirt brown instead of red. I panicked soon afterward, realizing my fingerprints and other trace evidence would likely be found.

I left a message on Ruth’s wall yesterday. As in Marty’s wife. Her last update was in 2018 and I realize she could be dead since she would be in her 80s now. I looked and couldn’t find a grave or an obit on Marty, so if there isn’t one on him, there may not be one on her. Right or wrong, I acted as if she messaged me trying to apologize and work things out and I told her she had decades to do that, gossips too much, judges people by their past, was too judgmental, and that while I wish her the best it was too late.

I guess it was a convenient way to express how I felt albeit a bit of a dishonest one. I’m curious to see if anyone ever discovers it but I have a feeling they won’t. I guess the account has been abandoned. But maybe not. There are no visible posts between 2015 and 2018. So maybe she’s just taking a little hiatus.

When I got up, I found a message waiting for me from Becky. She decided to look for Mary Bernadette S from Valleyhead who went by Bernadette. She found the nearly 6 ft black woman in the form of an obituary from 2016. She died at age 48 and Becky is devastated. I guess they were closer than I realized. Bernadette and I weren’t close although we were enemies either.

So she died just in time to spare herself from the hell called perimenopause. But WHY??? I hate that most obits don’t tell you how a person died.

The Termite Tammy dream wasn’t the only dream I had last night. It seems that many people from my past came marching in one by one. Lots of Andy dreams lately, although I’m not sure why. I do miss him at times, but I could never resume our friendship. He is who he is, and I am who I am. Besides, it’s become a hard rule of mine not to do do-overs. You step out of my life or I put you out of it, you stay out of it.

Anyway, I don’t remember what he, Nane or Maliheh did in my dreams but I remember Molly even though it didn’t make much sense. She pointed to a bright orange-pink fleece blanket and said, “Isn’t that your blanket?”

I glanced over to where she was pointing and I was relieved to see that it was. I guess I lost some things or was worried someone had stolen them. I also had a feeling that Molly was hiding something and not being totally honest with me, but just like in real life, I kept my suspicions to myself preferring not to let people know that I know, am aware of, and notice more things than they realize.

Next, I offered her some old dolls I didn’t want, hoping she would take them off my hands. She did and I hugged her more because I was grateful for her making things easier on me than anything else. Her shoulders felt slender as we embraced.

Then there was something about me being chased by a dog, threatening its owner, and someone who was universally hated winning tons of money. Then Tom and I were seated at a long dining table with about a dozen other people in the room. He surprised me by defending me to them, saying that the person who won money was accused of doing the same thing I had to spend 24 hours in jail for.

“I had to spend a lot more than that,” I snorted.