I just talked to Andy for a little while and Tom’s up now, too. He’s eating the spag I made him.

A few days ago, I asked Tom, who’s sure we’ll have a kid, if he’s ever been wrong on something he was so sure of. He said no, not something like this. Did he forget how he was sure I’d be a bad wife when we got married? If he was sure I’d be a bad wife, then how can he not feel sure I’d be a bad mother, too?

Tom’s sworn over and over that his problem isn’t physical. OK, then if it’s psychological, it’s got to be fears, doubts, and worries about having a kid and fears, doubts, and worries about what kind of a mother I’d be. How can it be anything else? How can it be cuz the sky is blue? Or cuz the carpet in here is brown? Or cuz my hair is long? Or cuz he’s into spicy foods?

Later…

I forgot to say that a few days ago, that book club sent me a notice. They’re not gonna send any books till I send half of what I already owe, so no more books from them.

I went through the employment ads and so far I found one possibility for me. Housekeeping at a small hotel in Phoenix. I figured that if this is gonna be my life and all God will allow for me, I better stop worrying about my schedule and take whatever I can get for however long I can hang onto it.

We went on the World Wide Web to check that singer’s thing. So far, we’ve found that it has karaoke music you can buy and stuff like that.

Dreams to Dream is a song of Linda’s from some movie track that I want. I only heard a quick clip of it once and thought it was really beautiful. I’d love to have this song, but first I’ve got to find out what movie it’s from and if I can get a cassette single of it or whatever.

Later…

I know the birds have some nests going in the palm tree across the street, but one has a nest in the tarp out on the patio. There’s a part of the tarp we put up with some of the old rafters covering it, so it’s a fairly shaded area they’re nesting in. I climbed up on a stool and I couldn’t see in, but I could see the mother bird’s head and she looked right at me. I couldn’t see it cuz I’m not tall enough and the bottom of the nest is shaped like a bowl and only a few inches tall before it hits the rafter above it.

Later…

Larry and Sandy sent me a band roster from Agawam High with little Larry’s name listed under percussion.

Larry and Tammy sure have things about their kids to be proud of.

I also got those bee things in the mail and once again, I knew it was too good to be true as with 99.9% of anything I want bad enough. I waited for a bee to come and flicked it on. Instead of flying away, he got a drink and then charged at me, so I ran.

Why do I bother trying for anything I want? I realize more and more that getting pregnant would be scarier than a blessing. Not just for reasons I’ve already stated, but cuz I’d no doubt have a miscarriage, so what would be the point of getting all psyched up for nothing? Also, I may feel empty and purposeless, but due to life being negative and positive, getting pregnant would be just swapping one misery for another. Instead of feeling empty and missing out on a child, I’d just be tired, fighting more with Tom, I’d lose my life and I know what my body would feel like and look like, too.

What’s the point? Shouldn’t we just remain as we are and be happy with what we’ve got and can do and can have? Is it really necessary to change our lives when it’s not to save our lives or fix/end a crisis?

There’s something else I realized, too. Seeing a doctor in ‘97 is only gonna make us look desperate. Those who see fertility doctors are desperate, and is that any good to be any more than a person who’s dying to get laid? It’s not good by your average person’s standards to be desperate for love or sex and the average person really sees anyone who goes to a dating service as desperate. Therefore, isn’t seeing a fertility doctor desperate? And does it show an unhealthy obsession? Isn’t it wrong for a person to really, really want something bad?