Well, no wonder they’ve been behaving next door with the exception of a little music on occasion. They were hoping to go to court with me and yes, they do suspect I threw the bottle, cuz they are trying to “have me served.” The first thing that went through my mind was that someone had to have seen me (but God only knows how), or that they were just so desperate to pin it on me anyway. Tom says you can tell in which direction a bottle was thrown by the way it scatters. Yeah, I thought about that, but I didn’t think the sick fucks would have brains enough to figure that one out. I think it was the cops who did, in which case I should’ve known better and shouldn’t have thrown the bottle. And of course, God just won’t let me get away with shit. I have no pity, guilt, remorse, or feelings of concern for these sick fucks whatsoever, but I am ashamed of myself for letting my husband down. This is one hell of a husband I’ve got who still loves me, and who says we’ll deal with whatever happens together when he could’ve turned his back on me. It is for him that I feel the shame, the guilt, and the remorse. As for the freeloaders, they fucked with me. I fucked back. Tom says “getting even” should mean that we do our best to better our lives, etc. Well, that goes without saying, but I meant it when I said that I give what I get. Tom says I just have to accept the fact that the world isn’t fair and that some people are gonna get away with things while others can’t. We agreed not to open the door to anyone, but we’re not gonna change our lives by hiding or making up stories. Like he said, if we get served, we get served. If we must go to court, we will. Meanwhile, we agreed I’d deny knowing a thing about it, but again, no stories. If they ask if there have been any problems with these people, I’ll tell them about the music. As Tom pointed out, due to the fact that I’m not alone with nothing, I couldn’t get a free lawyer, but if it came to court, I’m not gonna pay a lawyer to defend me over a thrown bottle. I’d just represent myself if it came to court.

I don’t know if they know yet that I haven’t been served, but there’s been a lot of door-slamming. Again, I don’t care if these people dropped dead and they can be happy, sad, rich or poor, but I guess I realized too late that the bottle was a bad idea. There were other things I could’ve done. Now I have to worry all the more, especially if I dodge court, that there’ll be more music problems and that they may even fuck with this house. Tom says that we’ll just have to live with whatever they do, but no way. I may have to pay for every little thing I do, but that doesn’t mean that they’re gonna get away with fucking with me. They can’t prove I threw that bottle. All they can do is suspect, but I disagree about us not being able to do anything if the letter we sent has a part in the music toning down. Even if it doesn’t, they still live in a house owned by the city and that’s a great advantage to us. Tom says maybe it’ll blow over, but that seems to be one stubborn bitch over there, so we’ll see. I asked God to please take it out on me. Meaning that Tom’s the one who works and whose name the house is in, so he could be the one to have to pay for this. In my little chat with God last night, I told him that if I must pay for what I’ve done, OK, but please let it be me to pay for it. I was the one who threw the bottle. Not Tom. I told him I didn’t want to go to court and have to have Tom pay for my actions, so please punish me. You know, 20 more pounds, continuing sterility, etc. Andy never had to go to court about the calls he made a few years ago to this customer and a detective said he’d have to, but he’s Andy. And God does favor Andy a bit more over me, even if there are others he loves even more than Andy. I’ve seen Andy get away with things I could only dream of getting away with. Scott never had to pay for his stealing his VCRs and I’d think that theft would be more serious than vandalism. Scott knew Andy was gonna have him served, so he didn’t answer his door, and they never went to court and Andy never saw his VCRs again. Again, though, that’s Scott and Andy. Not me. God’s standards for me are different.

Anyway, the court server left a card that said, “Jody, give me a call.”

Couldn’t even spell my name right. This card was face down on the ground, too, not taped to the door or in the mailbox slot. He came knocking again yesterday too, so who knows how many times he’ll keep trying?

Yuck, the weekend’s almost here. I haven’t heard any dog or music yet. My guess is that the dog won’t come till around the same time the last dog did. Probably between May and July, they’ll get a dog. I thought about it and realized that the reason they may not want to get a dog now, is cuz that’d show they were afraid of their tormentor, and they wouldn’t want that! My guess is that there’s a 50/50 chance they’ll act up this weekend. If they suspect me, they might, cuz they’d want to see if yet a third outburst from them brought another letter/bottle a few days afterward. If they don’t suspect me, they may be quiet, seeing that they just had a get-together.

I wasn’t here yesterday at lunchtime to know if he was a problem coming and going. All I’ve heard so far are car doors. The day they pulled in and up to the bottle, from what I saw, it was his car, so I think that he, she, the little one, and the teenage boy found the bottle together. Yesterday, though, I think she came in by some ride, like usual, then he came in later.

Later...

Today was like old times singing, in a way. I was congested and had to clear my throat a lot. God and his fucking compensations, boy I’ll tell you! Isn’t the fact that my nose is no better enough? Or the fact that I’m sterile? Or fat? Speaking of that, I haven’t been as hungry the last couple of days, and could that, and the fact that I’ve lost a few pounds, and have a slight good feeling about it, mean I’m gonna lose weight? Probably not. At least, it’s something I couldn’t believe unless I did lose weight.

In case I forgot to say - Tom says we don’t have to put off moving till after his mother dies. We can get to a place suitable for us that’d only take 15-25 minutes to drive into the city.

Tom was telling me he had a death dream where we were discussing dying, and what we’d do during our time left. He also said I was a rhinoceros through all of it. Yeah, I’m sure that dream was triggered by the loss of Spunky. I had some strange dreams, too, where Ma bought the Harley Hotel I worked at the Enfield, Connecticut/Longmeadow, Mass. line. She had it moved out here too (his ma). His father was in the dream, too, playing the harmonica on a screen in a theater that was apparently added on, then he jumped out in person to say hello to Tom and I. There were other bits and pieces of dreams I remember too, and in one of them, I saw Spunky and an all-black GP.

Tammy called just to say hi. Just to say hi. I couldn’t believe it. She usually never would call unless something was wrong or if she needed something. She says all’s going great. I’m so happy for her. She deserves to be happy for once.

Haven’t heard from my folks yet on AOL, but I’m sure I will soon enough.

We may not do any recording till Monday, which I’d prefer. This would suit his schedule better and I’d be less stressed out and worried that the freeloader may bang in. So, all that could really be noisy then would be dogs and car doors.

I took Tweety outside (in his cage, of course) and put him on the patio for some fresh polluted air (all those snowbirds are here). He didn’t really like this arrangement, though, cuz he was cornered on all 4 corners and very nervous. He had me in front of him, a cat to his left, a pigeon behind him, and a rabbit to his right. Tweety’s still very shy. Even my pigeons, especially Measles, are braver and less afraid of me.

The teeth cleaning went swiftly enough, and she said my teeth were less stained. I have another cavity that has to be filled in two weeks. Meanwhile, they’re gonna take care of this nuisance of an impaction, too. They’re gonna pull the baby tooth, but how they’ll walk the adult tooth up front, we’re not sure yet. We have two choices. We can get this retainer type thing for about $800 or go with braces and that’d be just over a G. Our insurance, of course, we’ll pay at least half of it. Tom’s gonna look at the price charts, but I was thinking I’d probably go with the retainer. As he says, if it costs $400 it’s still worth it cuz it’ll be a one-time deal and then I’d never have to worry about this shit again. I can go days without it irritating me, but then it gets irritated and bugs the hell out of me. It’s hard to clean in between it, too, and it’s coming down more. So, if I did nothing, the baby tooth would more than likely get pushed out and then the teeth that’d be next to the gap it left, would shift and want to fill in that gap.

Got up at 7:30, fed the animals, had my coffee, took my shower, had my daily sneezing fit, tied my hair in a knot at the nape of my neck (a knot on top of my head’s too heavy when it’s wet), and now I’m ready to update.

This is going to come as a sudden shock, but Spunky’s dead. I’ve never seen anything like it. He just practically up and died. I don’t know if God’s compensating me by taking his life so soon cuz of how long Piggy lived, or what, but we think he may have had a tumor. It could’ve burst and poisoned him, and one side of his tummy seemed pretty distended, but we just don’t know for sure. His duties never looked right and he did get awfully big real fast, so given this, and the way he was so unusually timid and starving when we got him, tells us that maybe something was wrong with him from the get-go. Tom buried him out back.

In other animal news, Patch had her babies, but it’s hard to tell how many with 3-4 litters all piled together. The oldest are just starting to sprout their fur and are becoming more mobile. A couple of Patch’s babies were stillborn and she was bleeding from her crotch. I had been worried about her, but she’s fine and much smaller now. She had been fat! Spot’s next to deliver and now it looks like Bandit may have kids, too. The only one that may not be pregnant, for reasons I just don’t know, is Tanner. It’s too bad that if one escaped pregnancy it was Tanner, cuz she’s the only tan-colored one. If she had had a litter, there may have been a wider variety of colors.

And now I’m 127. I knew I’d gain weight when I quit smoking but does this no longer have anything to do with that? How is it that I’m gaining 2 pounds a week now? What’s going on? Well, all I can do is wonder, but I have to just accept it. There’s nothing I can do about it. Even the bra my ma brought out that was slightly big on me fits perfectly now. Where are these tits coming from? It’s like they’re not even mine.

Tom brought some really neat hand cleaner back from Ma’s yesterday. Bobby had brought it over from the mall. He’s the one who works at a bookstore and brings Mom boxes of books that don’t sell. This gel kills germs in 30 seconds without water and smells really nice.

Tom said the only thing that really bugs him about Ma staying at Mary’s is cuz they’re slobs. Filthy slobs, not just cluttered, unorganized slobs. Their bathrooms and kitchen are caked with dirt.

Today I go get my teeth cleaned at 1 PM

Later...

Tom just got in from work and we were checking out the babies. There must be 20 of them! He’s got a point when he says that it may be a good thing Tanner isn’t having babies, or else I could end up with those ugly white mice. As each litter gets old enough to be separated from its mom, we’ll take the males out and put them in their own cage till the youngest males are old enough to go, too, then we’ll take them to the pet store.

Tom says he didn’t hear anything, but I could’ve sworn I heard freeloader music at around 1 PM, then we both thought we heard car doors a couple of hours earlier, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he were coming in for lunch again, but I don’t know. This was yesterday that I thought that it was a freeloader I heard, but today I won’t be here at lunchtime to know if he acts up.

Tom said that the reason he was gung-ho about doing some songs with me, is cuz this is something that’s fun and that we can control. We can’t just go to the doctor for a magic pregnancy pill, though, that’ll give us an instant child.

I went off on Tom a few days ago and I feel bad about it. He says he understands, but whether or not I’ve had him figured all wrong, I’m sorry for yelling at him and calling him names.

I was utterly shocked at his suggestion, too. He thinks we should see a doctor within the next 6 months and get the ball rolling. That way we can figure it into our moving plans.

OK, what’s new in Freeloader Land… I was sitting in the living room reading, so I heard them come in at 4:45 (no music). I heard several car doors over a period of an hour. Maybe a little more. I also heard voices. The voices I mainly heard were those of kids and of the boy who lives there. At least I think that’s who it was. These things not only look the same. They sound the same. All I know is that the voice sounded black, close, and not under 15 years old. I didn’t hear the bitch yelling like I thought I would. There were people out talking from the time they came in; till the time I went to bed at 6:00. I didn’t hear how long they stayed out gabbing, naturally, cuz of the fan/noise machine. I don’t know if they called the cops, but I sure did hear something weird and that was this strange ticking sound. It sounded like a car motor as well and if it was, it wasn’t their car. Their car doesn’t tick. I also wondered if it was the cops with something to see if they could test for evidence, but wouldn’t they take the glass, bag it up, and then bring it to a lab? Besides, what with the way cops tend to brush things off, I wouldn’t think they’d bother over a smashed bottle. They’ve got too many murders to solve and killers to catch.

So, so far, it doesn’t look like anything will come out of this, but I’m going to definitely lay off as far as the vandalism goes. If there’s anything I and these bent fucks have in common, it’s that stubbornness and that resistance to intimidation. We don’t run away from trouble. We face it. So, this is gonna piss these people off and maybe they’ll wonder about it and have to live with being paranoid when they’re away from the house, but this would never be enough to drive them out of there. Also, these people are very sick individuals and they could do something to this house on just pure speculation that I had anything to do with it. It would take violence or some ongoing thing, like me depriving them of their sleep, to drive them out of here. The sleep thing’s debatable, though. If they were that stubborn, they may try to legally do something about it if that place is worth their staying in to them.

So that should sum it up. No more vandalism, although I may be very noisy at night, depending on what they do. This could cause them to act up to see if it’s me. Meaning if they have the brains to realize that the last two outbursts of theirs brought mail and bottles, they may want to try to bait me. They may also have a camcorder trained on the side/front of their house right now.

It seems I can’t get caught up with the writing these days! Anyway, I’m making spag, but I thought I’d update while it was cooking and while I had a plateful.

They haven’t come to the door as of yet about the bottle, but God’s begun his payback for me. I actually woke up at 11:30 last night wheezing. No, it wasn’t anything like old times and how I’d wheeze when I smoked, and one shot cleared it instantly, then I went back to bed.

Tom says it was cuz the weather’s been warmer and that traps in the pollution and that’s another reason we have to move. Speaking of that, he says things are looking even better for that, although it won’t be this year, cuz interest rates have dropped even lower.

Then two hours after falling back asleep, I awoke with those oh-so-familiar hunger pains, so I got up, grabbed a piece of bread and a few swallows of water, then crashed till I got up at 5:30. I got up and was so hungry that I had a small TV dinner right away. I never used to do that. For as far as I can remember, I didn’t eat the first few hours I’d be up. Now I wake up so hungry that I’ve got to have something. And even then, I may still be hungry. But like I said, I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that there’s nothing I can do about it. My weight’s gonna keep climbing a few pounds a week till it decides to stop, and God only knows when it’ll decide that. I may have gotten my way as far as being able to not pick up a cigarette, light it, and smoke it, but God owns my body for the most part. Always has, always will, so it’s his to do as he sees fit.

Andy finally called and asked to come over this Saturday to take a half-hour out to tell me what’s been going on with him. I told him that’d be OK, but is he gonna pester me in person now that he can’t get me by phone as much? A part of it is Laura. He wouldn’t be coming over in the first place if it wasn’t to get her money, but can’t he ever associate with someone he can trust? Even he says he has to “hide” things from her. How can he live like that? If I felt I had to hide my stuff from whoever I was living with, I’d have a real problem. And he’s talking about lowering himself to going out with Quinn again, too. He also says God’s answered all his prayers for this year so far. Well, I’m glad God answers all of some people’s prayers.

Later...

I can’t believe that Patch still hasn’t had her babies yet. Patch and Spot may be the only two left with babies, then we’ll have to segregate in a few weeks. I find it really unfair, though, that while we’ve been trying unsuccessfully for years to have a child of our own, these mice are having babies left and right. I sit here and just dream of a child and meanwhile, we’ve got to scurry like hell to keep more and more litters from coming. God, that’s insulting! That is just so incredibly insulting to know that God can find mice more deserving and more capable of having kids than I am.

Ah, so we freeloaders are leaving for work now, instead of 7:00, huh? After they slammed me twice, I ran up front and saw it leave. It still isn’t coming in for lunch these days that I know of, but it just may have some glass to clean up when it comes in at the end of the day. I assume that the house is empty from now till around 4:00, but it’s OK if there’s someone in there. I can still go to the side of the house and hurl a bottle over the block wall and into their carport. So whether or not someone’s there, it’ll look like a drunk and or drunken potential burglar was stalking around. Whereas if something was thrown over in the middle of the night, it’d look more obvious that it’s me behind it and they can suspect me, but I don’t want them to know it’s me till after we’re gone, so they can’t fuck with our house. I don’t stand by all our windows 24/7, so if someone were to approach the house with bad intentions, I wouldn’t necessarily know it in time to stop them. Anyway, I’m not gonna hurl the bottle till around 10:00. No, I haven’t heard his music yet, but I know I will, so I may as well get this over with. I’ve been wanting to start carrying out some of my harassment/terror plans anyway, and I’m just so angry. I hate these motherfuckers, and it’s either this or my beating them up and Tom doesn’t want me to. A part of me is hoping that the bitch comes over to ask if I did it and maybe even threaten me too, so I can beat her ass and his too. Meaning that maybe they’ll give me a reason, and someone screaming in my face at my door seems reason enough. But this bottle and other things are well overdue. These people have thumbed their noses at me long enough. I mean, who the fuck do they think they are to come into this neighborhood like they own it and to harass me with their noise like they have? His music’s gonna come back and so is a dog. It may not be the same dog, but they’ll get one. Trust me.

I am absolutely blown away by the fact that Andy hasn’t called since I left him that message yesterday. This has to mean that something’s going on, but I’m sure he’ll call today. If he doesn’t, then something’s really wrong over there.

Tom brought the guys to the store yesterday and they lucked out. The store had no room for them cuz someone had just brought in tons of mice, but this employee who’s a mouse breeder took them. She says she’ll take them at any age. She breeds and trades mice with other breeders. It’s nice to know my mice will go with this woman to her home, rather than to wonder what became of them. In a few weeks, we’ll bring in the babies. She’s using my cage to transport the mice home, which she says we can pick up on Friday. I guess that’s when she’ll be working again, but I hope she doesn’t intend to keep the cage. You know me - can’t trust anyone. Tom says he doubts she’d want to get fired over a $12 cage. People are weird. You never know.

I changed the mice’s cages earlier since cedar is supposed to be bad for them. There are 16 babies currently.

A few days ago I had asked Tom if he’d want to do a simple arrangement to me singing a few songs, so I could maybe send tapes (if I wasn’t that disgusted with what I heard) to my folks, Tammy and Larry. He said he’d love to and was really gung-ho about it and to please pick out sheet music for a couple of songs (he reads better than I do and I play better by ear). I had forgotten all about it for a few days, but he reminded me in the message he left me before work, to pick out some songs for him to work on so we could do some stuff this weekend. He said he’s anxious about it and boy does he sound it! He’s way more anxious about that than the idea of seeing if a doctor could fix me. I mean, he could never be as anxious about the idea of us being able to have a child, as he could be about anything, meanwhile, he continues to put off, make excuses, and swear he does want a child, he isn’t afraid to go to a doctor, etc. He said the same old shit about getting a physical soon and hoping I will, too. I think that if he does get a physical, it’ll only be to encourage me to get one too, since it’s been a while for me. He says it’s best that we deal with my situation, though, cuz if we don’t, it’ll follow us wherever we go. True, but still, his actions and words don’t match, and we’ve got a double whammy on us here. We both have a problem. I’m sterile, and he won’t cum but once every 2-4 months. The first thing they’re gonna do is try to find out why he won’t cum much and get him to cum more. Then, I’ll have to go through all the shit of what’s wrong with me and what can/can’t be done, etc., and it’s a no-win situation here for sure. Nothing anyone can do can fix things so I can have a child. God’s just blocked every single avenue on me and has made it thoroughly impossible. I’d have a better chance at becoming president or an Olympic gymnast than I’d have of ever getting pregnant. God must really hate me and think I’m a hell of a wimp who can’t handle shit.

Later...

I threw the bottle at about 9:30 and my assumption was correct - there’s no one home, cuz I didn’t hear anyone come out to check around and there was no cruiser called over there. If he doesn’t come in for lunch, my guess is that it’ll be the bitch to discover the broken glass first (in the middle of the carport). I heard voices out back a little while ago, but that could’ve come from two yards down where they do daycare where the guard dogs are. Now all I have to do is hope that this doesn’t scare them into getting a dog, but like I said, they’ll get another one sooner or later. I also have to hope that they don’t automatically assume it’s me and fuck with this house or “have me served” as the bitch said she’d do if I shot her dog. I think it’s much more likely that she’ll come over here asking questions about it, but I won’t answer the door, so please God, don’t have Tom be awake if and when she comes to the door. Just like with the letter, I’d rather he not know about this now, cuz you know how paranoid he is and how anti-trouble he is. I also hope they weren’t on the brink of a breakup cuz this could end up keeping them together for a while longer, although they’ve been together an unusually long time, so they may not break up for 10 years.

Later...

Now this is a beautiful day we’re having. Larry and Tammy would be jealous for sure. It’s to be in the mid-70s today. In general, though, this is the coldest winter I’ve been here for. Even Tom agrees that it’s been a very cold winter. So, so far, that makes the winter of ‘97-‘98 the coldest for me and the summer of ‘92 the hottest.

We planted 6 cactuses that Ma gave us. Tom put chicken wire around them to keep Bunny from destroying them. I just don’t know how the hell that rabbit can chew up cactuses without the needles stabbing the hell out of him. I never would’ve dreamed that this rabbit could chew up cactuses.

I still haven’t heard from Andy! I can’t believe it. This is just totally amazing. If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow afternoon, I just may start to worry.

OK, gonna sign off for now and hopefully there’ll be no knocks at the door within the next few hours. They asked for trouble from me a long time ago. They got it now, though they should’ve had it much sooner than this.

I’m really in a shitty mood right now. It figures, huh? First, something’s going on even more fucked up and abnormal with my plumbing, I want to get the fuck out of this animalistic city, and my husband’s still too busy doing for others first, putting off our lives, and not seemingly interested in me one bit. I may have had an all-time low appetite, but just the thought of knowing that my husband doesn’t seem to want me in bed kind of stings a little.

Since the 21st I had a few measly little spots. Then last evening at 8:00, I had such cramps that I thought I finally had a full flow when all I had were a few good-sized spots (enough to prove my point about being sterile yet again, though). I still haven’t had a full flow, either, but maybe I will by the next time I get up. These are more than just little spots now and are bright red but are mostly stuff I’m wiping off and that’s not big enough in volume to hit my panty-liner.

Anyway, Tom was supposed to bring the males to the pet store and change the big guy’s cage, but what did he get tied up doing instead? Working on Mary’s car again. Can’t she see that he’s got to have a life too, and can’t she take care of her own damn car? Is this gonna be a regular thing here? Is she gonna have him work on her car every few weeks? What’s she gonna do when we move? I’m sure she’ll still call him for help and that’d be worse, cuz then he’d have longer to drive to get there, so that’d be more time doing stuff that we’d lose. If Dave and other family members were as smart as Tom, that’d be different, but instead, they have to come first. First off, I don’t think I’ll ever have the guts to go to a doctor just to be told they can’t help me have a child, but if I wanted to, I know I’m gonna have to wait till after Ma’s gone. It’s like she comes first, then I can maybe get on with my life. And I don’t care if this sounds selfish, cuz I have things I want and need to do, too. I’ve had it with this parent-care trip. In a sense, we had a boy and a girl. First we take care of daddy and now it’s mommy. Like I said, I’m sick of living for his parents and for his sister’s car. I have to put off what matters to me and let them be the #1 priority, like it or not.

I’m gonna go do some picture scanning for Bob. I got 9 of just me and one with Kim and I from when I moved into the Habitat building in S. Deerfield.

Later...

I called Andy and let him know that my schedule won’t be on nights when he comes to get the rent money, so it’s OK for him to go ahead and tell me about the convention/Quinn on the phone, which I’m sure will take 2-3 hours. I’ll just keep my hands tied up and maybe bang away at the computer. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be very happy to leave me 4 messages about it.

I just got slammed and ran up front so I could hear better as to how he left but didn’t see him. So the freeloader either just came out for a slam or he flew out of that driveway.

Speaking of freeloaders, I hear he was a very bad boy yesterday. Well, 3 of his low-life, rude, selfish pals were. Yeah, he and his fellow freeloading buddies are one and the same. I’m sure that if he asked them not to come banging in, they wouldn’t any more than he wouldn’t if he were asked not to. Very fortunately for them, I slept fine, or else we’d have a pack of dead freeloaders here for sure. You start fucking with my sleep, you die. Anyway, I got up at 8:30 for an hour, then went back to sleep till 10:00. Meanwhile, Tom left a message just before 4:00 saying he should’ve known better but it’s Super Bowl Sunday, so there are cars parked in the driveway and hopefully no one will play ball. 3 cars came in next door, all playing music. He said it wasn’t too loud, but annoying enough. Then he left another message at 7:30 before heading out for work, saying the game was over and he expected some shouting. Oh yeah, I’m sure they really carried on like assholes. Not like they would’ve if it was hot out, though. And of course, everyone had to go to the freeloader’s house. The freeloaders couldn’t go to their houses. I can’t believe they don’t do Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve at their house. They do everything else there.

So, I only got up to take an Ibuprofen and listen to his message, but then I went back into bed. However, I was instantly aware of a slight, but sure bass beat, which wouldn’t have woken me up, but that I knew would keep me from going back to sleep. That did it. That’s when I told myself, “Look. You can’t kill the people who made these stereos and that has prevented this from being the otherwise quiet residential neighborhood that it should be, but you can set these freeloaders straight for once and for all and let them know how it’s gonna be from now on. Let them know you will not tolerate being a part of their lives, parties, or music anymore and that they cannot and will not trespass and invade this house with their music. Even if you do have to beat them into submission to get the peace that’s your right, you were here first and if they don’t like it, then they’re just gonna have to leave. Somebody’s gotta teach these freeloaders that you can’t expect to not know someone exists, while they know you do. You just can’t do that.”

So, I get dressed and go out there and all that’s there is one maroon car in the driveway that I’ve seen before, then I see Daddy’s car parked out on the road. It wasn’t even them. It was some asshole visiting the other assholes across the street. So now they’re no longer the respectful people they seemed to have been and now I got two houses full of shit to deal with. And all the while this guy’s sitting in the car with it blaring, Dan, I think his name is, is just standing there with someone else gabbing away. I don’t know how the hell they could carry on a conversation, but nonetheless, I asked them to turn it down and they did, but here’s my question - how often is this boy gonna come around? It’s obvious now that this Dan boy does still live there and I don’t know if he’s a high school or college kid, but am I gonna be back to old times with these assholes again, too? What if they decide to form a band again? They may respect me enough to keep their practice volume down, cuz they’re not 100% rude and selfish like the freeloaders are, but then I’d have to listen to several cars bang in and out once a week or so.

Fuck this shit and this fucking animalistic city! But like Tom said, though, just one or two more Super Bowls and yeah, maybe he’s right about there being just two more years that we have to stay here. I just wish Mom and Mary’s car didn’t have to come first, but they do. And if God really wants us to continue being #2 and to continue having things set us back from getting things done and from living our lives, he will. I have a feeling that we could suddenly be the only two people left in this world, but still, somehow and some way, he’d find shit for Tom to do to take our time away from us so things could keep on being delayed, etc.

So, what’s the bad boy’s punishment gonna be for his bad little visitors letting their arrival be known? Well, since it wasn’t Mr. Fuck himself that banged in (I saw him leave without music yesterday before his boy pals came), I’ll spare them a bottle, but that’s only for now. As soon as he bangs in and I hear it or am told about it, that’s when they’ll get the bottle and so much more. Meanwhile, I went out at about 3:30 AM and banged right back by dropping the steel rod on the concrete patio that was supposed to be for the security door to latch into. I just hope to hell that God let them hear it and that he didn’t interfere, and one of the wonderful things about this is that they’d never in a million years give me the satisfaction of complaining about noise from me and letting me know that I did something that disturbs them. Shooting a dog is one thing, but they’d never call the cops on me for bothering them with noise. Not even if they were sure it was me making noise and that it was in the middle of the night. Someone else could, but I’d just deny knowing anything about it. Like I said, though, hopefully they’ll hear it and put two and two together and realize that music means noise late at night from over here, but I still doubt they heard it. And if they did, they wouldn’t have the mentality to make the connection even if they could physically see me making noise. I’m not worried about my making noise becoming too obvious, but if I throw a bottle, I’ll have to do whatever I can to make it look like some passing bum staggered over there drunk and dropped the bottle, cuz that’s physical evidence and more of a crime than disturbing the peace is.

Later...

Well, my period can’t seem to make up its mind. It seems like it’s struggling with either going into a full flow or stopping. If it stops, then that’d be the strangest period I’ve had in years what with the 3-day spotting trip I went on before it became a cross between heavy spotting and a light period. If I have a flow where I need a few big pads which is usually the case, then that’d make it more normal, except for the 3-day spot deal. Still, it’s enough to prove my point. I am sterile unless pre-cum really does impregnate a woman very rarely. So if a woman’s chances of getting pregnant by pre-cum are lower but still OK enough, then I’m as sterile as a doorknob.

Later...

Apparently, we did a good job of sexing the mice, cuz I haven’t seen any screwing going on. They don’t know it, but the guys will be on their journey to the pet store later today. Again, I wonder what their fate will be. It kind of reminds me of when I was off to Brattleboro, or Valleyhead, or wherever. Will they ever have a wheel again and have all this space? Will they ever climb tubes again? Will they be happy? Or will they wish they could return here? Animals adapt better than humans in cases like this, I’d think, so hopefully they’ll be OK if they stay out of some snake’s gut.

Tom says Mary’s car is all fixed but trust me - she’ll need something done again within a month. And of course, Tom’s gotta be the one to move Mom into Mary’s, while the rest of the family just sits on their asses. See this is one of God’s many ways that makes absolutely no fucking sense to me whatsoever. Why not take Ma, who’s done her time here, who’s lived her destiny and life, has nothing more to offer this world, and reunite her with Dad? As much as we’ll miss her, I’m sure she’d be much happier with dad. Then, as God would know, we’d be in the position to move, and God also knows that we want to move, then why won’t he let us have a kid? Why can’t I live for a child of my own? Why must I always live for someone outside of Tom and I as a couple? We’ve got the wrong life here that’s going. He should take her life and give us a life. That life, being the child that we’ve wanted for so long now. We haven’t lived our lives for us much at all (I hope to hell there’s more to my calling in life than what’s been destined for me so far), but Ma has. Her life is over, so why not let us have lives of our own with our own family? We’re in our 30s and 40s and not 70s. Well, I know I can never have a child, but two years do go by faster when you’re an adult and she’ll be gone and then we’ll move. People will still need Tom, I’ll still be sterile, but we’ll leave this congested city and there’ll be no Mormons or freeloaders a few feet away.

I sure do have a lot of mouse updating to do but let me first get other things out of the way.

Still playing phone tag with Paula, who left a message saying she got my letter and knew we keep missing each other, but to try to get a hold of her. I’ll try in the morning, but if I call and get her on a Sunday, that means the kid’s gonna be there, unless this one’s been taken, too.

Got a letter from Bob, who really likes the different stationery that the new program we got can do. He wants more pictures of Kim and I.

No wonder Tom’s saying we can move in two years. He told me this before too, and it has to do with the fact that in two years is when we think his mother will die. With our share of the money she leaves, I guess we could move, but we’d rather she live. We’d rather she live and be healthy, but as sad as it is, that can never be again.

Tom told me about a wild dream Mary had. In the dream, Ma was told she had 4 months left to live and Mary asked her what she wanted to do with the time that was left. Ma said she wanted to go to Michigan to be with her sister. Then she also said, “Dad said he wants to go too, but I told him he can’t since he’s dead.” And Mary agreed he couldn’t go cuz he was dead. Then Ma said, “But he really wants to go bad. He says he’ll stay on the floor. But I told him no, he can’t, cuz he’s dead.” Then Mary said there were these “dead” mannequins that kept falling down all around her cuz they were trying to dance.

Pretty weird, huh? Tom says not to read anything into it. Oh, I won’t. I still strongly predict she’ll live to be 77.

Now for the mice news. First off, I may have miscounted. There may be 15 mice and not 16, but anyway, after all the calculations I’ve done, we should have about 30 lady mice if things go as we plan them. It’s a good thing we sexed/segregated them yesterday when we did, cuz right after we did, Ziggy and Cocoa had their babies. Between the both of them, there are about a dozen pinkies, as they’re also called, which is very appropriate since they’re just these little pink blobs. Males are also called bucks and females are also called does. So my mom, whose nickname is Doe, is nicknamed after mice. She’d be thrilled to know that. The soft, high-pitched squeaking sounds of the babies are so cute. We learned so much and I’ve really become quite the mouse expert, as well as the GP expert, etc. With what we now know, we can say that the original Gizzy that I trapped was definitely a male by how he acted.

More good news for me, and that’s that Tanner and Patch, my favorites of all the first sets of babies, are both females. Anyway, we’ve got 7 ready to go to Petco tomorrow and 8 ladies all by themselves, who can tend to the babies, and enjoy being free from being jumped all the time. It goes to show just how dishonest this store really is too, when their signs tried to claim they live for 5 years. Mice don’t live longer than GPs. More like 18 months, is the case with mice.

Boy, the guys are really depressed, I guess, what with not being able to screw like hell, cuz all they’ve been doing is sleeping. A part of me feels bad for these guys. They can resume their sex lives at the pet store if there are ladies in stock, but they’re not gonna have all this stuff. They’re not gonna have all these cages and tubes and wheels. Not unless someone like me or Mary gets them that’s really into all that stuff. They’re just gonna be thrown into a plain old little 5-10-gallon tank with nothing but water and food. There’ll be no tubes or wheels, which is unfortunate. They should at least be given a wheel. Then, they’ll have to deal with all the people and all the noise, and who knows if they’ll become snake food? Typically, that’s what they breed those ugly little white mice for, but you never can know what their fate will be. All they’ve known is where they are now, so hopefully they’ll go to someone who’ll love them and give them a good home.

Wow! Almost 24 hours have gone by without a call from Andy.

According to Tom’s research, that guy really was way out of whack when he said mice don’t fuck for 5 months. More like 5 weeks, is the case, and they breed continuously like GPs do. So, every female is pregnant, unless God struck any of these ladies as sterile as he struck me. So I separated the sexes and I’ll have Tom double-check with me and make sure that I didn’t make any gender guessing mistakes. I’ll want to get rid of these males ASAP. Then, as soon as the litters are 2-3 weeks and done nursing and we can tell their sexes well enough, we’ll segregate them and off the males to the pet store when they’re old enough.

The good news is that this is more mice for me, now that I don’t have to worry about having a lot of mice that’ll smell, since the males will be out of the picture. According to what Tom read, only the males stink. This makes sense. Male BO is a hell of a lot more severe than female BO. A female would have to go several days without showering before she’d really stink unless she ran a marathon. A male could shower up, then sit down to read for a few hours, and then be stinking.

Later...

Well, it looks like I’m either gonna have to set Andy straight in a threatening kind of way, or just deal with his constant calls. He didn’t leave a message, but he tried calling twice yesterday and once just now. He said he met Randy who’s gross and he’ll tell me about it in person and he’s sorry he’s calling. Well, if he’s sorry he’s calling, then why’d he call? Why’s he such a selfish, pushy, opposite-doer? Why won’t he just give me a break? He has other friends.

Heard a car door at 10:00 last night, but there have been no problems that I know of yet. By this summer, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had another dog.

I knew, upon going into this marriage, that our lives would revolve around his parents until they were both gone. It’ll be a while yet before we can decide what we want to do, if we want to do anything at all, about my little problem here, cuz we have to wait and see what’s gonna be going on with his ma. In the next few weeks, she’ll have a lot of appointments and testing. I don’t know if something wants us to wait till after she’s gone to deal with this, or what. I have mixed emotions about the whole thing. Like I said, I can understand taking care of such a sweet and generous lady (she offered to buy us a new heat/AC unit), but I feel like we’ve never been able to fully live our lives for ourselves and do what we want to do. I suppose I’ll always feel that way, though, no matter what. Nonetheless, she’s only got a few years left, but I’ve got 15-20 reasonable childbearing years left, not that that’s ever to be meant to be, as I said, but do I want to at least get tested? I just don’t know. It’s just so unfair. Haven’t I had enough problems without having to deal with this, too? People aren’t supposed to pay for nature. How can God do that to a woman? He’s made me such a defective, abnormal freak and I’m not gonna give in to any of it. If I let this work me to death, play on my emotions, etc., That’ll be giving him the reaction he wants. People are dead wrong when they say God doesn’t inflict pain. First I was hauled to Boston 100 times to work for a so-called normal ear, and in the midst of all this shit, I had to work for a so-called normal life, then I went through the shit with the asthma, getting the so-called ear canal that God was supposed to have given me for nothing, and now I’m supposed to go work for a normal reproductive system? I don’t know. I’ve had enough medically that I don’t know whether or not to undergo testing, do what Tom thinks is best, or just forget about it. If I begin this process, you’re talking about a 1-2-year ordeal with 20-40 appointments. I just don’t know if I want to put myself through a series of hell again for the 4th time. I consider the first time my trips to Boston, the second the asthma, the third the ear shit here, and it’d be series #4 if I went through fertility testing, etc. No one can make it so that I can have a child. So, knowing that that’s the bottom line, I don’t know if I should even exhaust and humiliate myself for no reason, while God gets a good laugh out of it. And what really happened with the two-week spotting I did in the summer of ‘96? Was that really a miscarriage? Questions and more questions! But never any answers and certainly never any solutions!

I guess God loves some of my mice more than me, cuz at least 5 of them are being allowed to be pregnant. Ziggy’s definitely pregnant and it looks like a few of the babies are, too. Patch, Bandit, and Cocoa look pregnant. I’m psyched to see more litters arrive, but what are we gonna do here? Get the males segregated as soon as they’re born? Or ditch some of the duller-looking ones and keep the population where it’s at? We just don’t know yet. I knew that dumb male that told me mice don’t become sexually active for 6 months had to be full of shit and I should’ve gone by what my gut told me, but it’s a little too late for that. Tom will do some research on AOL since he seems to be better at that than I am, and then we’ll decide. It’s my fault for not trusting my gut instinct and the vibe that said “liar” when the guy tried to BS me with the 6-month thing. Also, I should’ve realized the logical side of that at the time. Of course, pet store people are gonna tell you animals have babies later than they really do. That way they can hope that you’ll bring in the offspring so they can get free animals to sell and profit even more.

Ziggy’s gonna have her babies any time now (I wonder if she’ll have more than two this time?), so I tossed in computer tracking paper strips to use as nesting material. They love this stuff and it’s such a fun toy for them. They not only use it to nestle in, but they chew it and they love to run through and dive into piles of it. It was so cute watching Patch haul some strips up out of the aquarium and into the cage next to that one.

And again my vibes prove to be correct - no losing weight for me for sure, like I had said. It is not meant to be, and something up there really does want me heavy and I will keep gaining. I email Tom every so often for the hell of it and I told him I know he cares how I look (he said only sex is a mental thing for him) and that if he ever decides he doesn’t like how I look, I’ll see what I can do, but there are no guarantees that I could lose weight. That’s something some of us can’t fight/change. Anyway, it’s just a body. I can love him just the same, and I’m sure he will, too.

I have quite a bit to write about. Most of it’s not too bad, but first, let me get Andy’s same old shit bitched about and over with.

I don’t know who’s worse of a rebellious opposite-doer. Him or Tom. Everything I tell him goes in one ear and out the other. He still knocks, rather than uses the doorbell when he comes over. I’ve told him a million times to ring the doorbell, but Andy’s gotta do what he wants to do. Same thing with the calls, of course.

He leaves me a message which could’ve waited a few days since we just left messages, and he says, “OK, I got something to say. I told Laura, I told Michelle and now I’m telling you, so please don’t be mad at me, but I got a date with Quinn tonight. He’s been really respectful to me lately, I still have feelings for him, and if I get hurt, I’ll get exactly what I deserve.”

So, then I leave him a message telling him that although I disagree with it, it’s his life, so why should I be mad at him? What I didn’t tell him, though, was that he was acting like a naïve teenager. It’s just a matter of time before the true Quinn returns and he will get hurt again by this sick fuck. I also implied that he’s selfish and can’t compromise by saying that he couldn’t have gotten the letter I sent, or else he wouldn’t call me again so soon. And yet again, I went through the 3 or so reasons why I only want messages every few days and a live chat once a week or so, etc.

Then he calls right back saying he’s sorry he’s so forgetful (which I doubt in this case) and tells me that he loved the letter, it was very dear to him and well written, it was the first real letter I’d written him in 15 years. Then he teased me about a spelling error I made since my spelling had gotten so good (I must not have used the computer’s spell checker). Anyway, I’m glad he loved the letter, but then what does he say in his next breath? He says, “Talk to you later!” and I’m like, no you won’t! You’ll talk to me in a few days. So, unless he sounds like he really needs to chat, I’m not gonna respond regularly to his messages. Maybe that’s the only way I’ll be able to get my point to sink in. I hope he doesn’t take it personally, it’s not that I don’t care, but he’s always there. He and his calls just won’t go away. He just doesn’t ease up on me. Maybe I should also not let him know how much it bugs me, cuz of how he is. He may not be as selfish as he used to be, but generally speaking, the more you tell him he’s doing something that bugs you, the more he’ll do it.

Now, onto a very nice talk Tom and I had. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter what he thought or did, cuz I’m sterile and unfixable. I reminded myself that back when his parents were having kids, there was no birth control, they screwed as normally and as regularly as any couple could, yet it took Mom two years to conceive David after Ray was born, then 5 years to conceive Mary, then two to conceive Tom, then 5 to conceive Steven. And it took my folks 12 years to catch me after having Larry and Tammy. Then I tried to remind myself that I swore I’d never get married and how I just couldn’t “see” that as ever happening, etc. However, the bottom line’s the same no matter what anyone else’s experiences have been, and that’s that I’m sterile, and I am bothered by Tom’s not believing/accepting this.

Earlier, he could tell something was up and I finally came out and told him my period’s beginning and that he could go right on with his denial, though. But then to my shock, he said that it was very sad I got my period, he just wanted to give me that one-in-a-million chance to be wrong, but he does believe me. He says he doesn’t believe I’m sterile to the degree that I believe I am, but that he understands that it’s more than likely the case. I was glad to hear him say this as it makes me feel like he’s more on my side and like I’m less alone with this shit. I just hope he means it and isn’t just saying so to please me. He seems sincere enough. I told him I understood the natural urge to deny and not accept something. I used to be a very stubborn and arrogant person in that respect, and he admitted he was stubborn about it.

Then he told me we couldn’t do anything for a few weeks cuz of his mom, but maybe we can do something before his mother dies and before we move, and I’ll now explain all this.

His mother’s doing awful. Blood consists of 3 things: white blood cells, red blood cells, and platelets. Well, platelets are what keep you from bleeding to death if you cut yourself and her platelets are virtually non-existent. We don’t know for sure if they can stabilize her condition, or if she’ll deteriorate, but we both feel she’ll live to around the turn of the century. Nonetheless, the next month or so is gonna be busy with her appointments and her moving into Mary’s.

As I told Tom, I think it’ll be better for everyone when mom’s with Mary, but I feel so helpless. I think we all do. This isn’t something that can be fixed. I also told him that if he felt it best to put off the testing till after she’s gone and after we’ve moved, that’s OK, cuz even though I wanted a kid yesterday, I’d still be young enough to have a child, but I still can’t ever “see” us with a child. Not in one year, or 5 years, or 10 years. I may have had very few dreams of this magnitude, but if God’s never let me have other dreams that were of this magnitude in the past, why should he start now? They may be able to answer my question of what’s wrong with me, but what’s really frustrating is that I may never know why. Did God do it punish me? Did he do it to protect me? Was it both? How could God do this to a woman? If God’s as loving as people claim, then is this the devil’s work? Anyway, I think the problem lies within my uterus and it’s cuz of the DES, but maybe we’ll find out it’s cuz of bad eggs, compliments of all the years people doped me up so they could control me into being what they wanted me to be.

I have so many theories and things I wonder, like, is this a test? If so, this is a hell of a test! Could God maybe intend to let us have a child after all, but not without a fight? Could he really want me to work for it and pay for it? His standards for me are higher than most others, after all. I wasn’t kidding when I said that the more normal and common something is, the harder I have to work for it. But love is supposed to be a normal thing and I didn’t have to work for that. I didn’t have to work for or pay to meet Tom. We just met. Although, most people aren’t loved. Not as loved as I am. Despite the things I’ve been suspicious of him for, whether I was right or not, no man’s as good and as loving as he is. I’m very blessed. Tom’s one in a million. So maybe I didn’t have to work or pay for him so much, in a sense, cuz he is so uncommon. I had thanked him for loving me even though I’m an abnormal, different, defective freak, and he said the same thing back, but believe me, he’s not even close. The only things that I’d say were different about him are his infrequent cumming and those screwy sandwiches he used to make with bologna, margarine, peanut butter and jelly.

I’m just so torn between wanting to fight for my dream and knowing I can’t fight God and win. I mean, I never have been able to in the past with something that meant this much to me. I guess it would, however, be best to seek as much closure to this issue as I can, and just let them test us and tell us to our faces just what the scoop is and if it’s hopeless or not, no matter what I think, feel or believe. I just don’t know if we’ll begin the process in a month or so, or in a few years. If it must be a few years, so be it then. I’d rather it not be, but if I’ve gone this long, it won’t kill me to go longer, even if this issue does play on my emotions on and off. I think our love is strong enough to go through with this together. I think we can both talk to these people and tell them the whole scoop, even if it’s something we’d rather not do. We’d rather have the normal sex and make the kid the natural way, but God’s just not gonna budge or make it easy for us if he makes it even possible at all.

At least I’ll always have Tom and will always love him no matter if we see a doctor or not or have a kid or not. It’s not that my life is bad but just incomplete, and it still breaks my heart to see the kids go to so many women who’ll just abort them or beat them to death.

Later...

God, that pest just does not give up!!! Andy said he had a great time with Quinn and now he can move on to the next relationship, he’s so different off drugs, he’ll tell me all about it in person, but by then he’ll have a million other things to tell me. Oh, I’m sure he will. And like this couldn’t wait? Geez! How can he have so much to tell me? All he does is work and gab on phones.

Here we are already halfway through the week. This week’s going fast, thanks to the long damn weekend.

I just went out and made a dump in the recycle bin, which was empty, and boy was that loud! Especially with the glass bottles I dumped. Hope the shitheads enjoyed that, but I doubt it. I’m sure that as God would have it, no one heard it and if someone did, it wasn’t the freeloader. Still only hearing door slams from them.

I can’t wait till we move!!!

Tweety sure is chirping up a storm right now. It seems that noise makes him sing more. When I wash the dishes, or when the washer’s going, or when the fryer’s going, he really sings away.

I got some really nice cards from the HS today. Cats, dogs and ducks. I think I’ll use them for the next 5 things I don’t have cards for and that’d be Becky’s, Mom’s and Dad’s birthdays, and Mother’s and Father’s Day.

I guess Andy’s gonna do whatever he can do to get my attention and to get a conversation with me, although it’s not every day he runs off to Xena conventions. He left a message saying that he had a great time and would talk to me about it in person when he picks up Laura’s rent money, so I don’t have to deal with the phone and missing my smokes. So now he’s gonna come over more often and show up 2-4 hours later than we agreed on? Oh, brother!

I did not discuss what I wrote in last night’s entry with Tom. First off, there’s no point and it won’t change anything. Secondly, I’d rather let January come and go before I say he’s broken his promise and discuss it with him then. We got together before he left for work, but he just couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t really, either, but I did enjoy our time together just talking and cuddling, and that’s most important.

We’re both still having allergy problems and suspect it’s the mice, but soon, half of them will be gone. Then, we’ll decide what to do if they’re still a bother, but as we both agree, they’re so cute! Gotta pay for everything, though, but in the meantime, I’ll do a good dust and vacuum job in here.

Later...

I sure had the shit scared out of me earlier. Maybe I did wake the freeloader up and maybe God used the huge moth that was in here as a way to get me back for it. It just wouldn’t die, either. I kept spraying it with Raid, but the damn thing kept swirling around the room, and I lost sight of it. I haven’t seen it for hours, so hopefully it finally kicked the bucket.

Ziggy’s looking awfully chubby lately and I hope she’s not pregnant.

When I called Lisa to wish her a happy birthday, she said she did quit smoking. Tom says give her the benefit of the doubt, but I don’t know. I hope she’d never lie to me about that or anything. If it’s true that she did quit, I’m really happy for her and proud of her. I know how hard it is. Especially when you’re this young, stubborn, naïve kid who doesn’t think it’ll affect her.

Andy’s right back to his same old shit. He agrees he’ll cut his calling down, but what do I get? I get two messages on the same day.

Tom says that due to his being given such unpredictable hours at work, he’s gonna look for a new job within the bank. He said that now that his ma’s moving into Mary’s, he won’t have to worry about what hours he works. I’ve always wondered if his ma was a factor in our sex lives. If he can choose to get his job based on his mother, he can choose a sex life based on her, too. I wonder, though, if another reason he’s been afraid of a child is cuz of the time it’d take away from taking care of her, although he says he could take care of both. He feels obligated to take care of her cuz of all the years she’s taken care of him. I would feel the same way if I had had a mother like that, but sometimes I think he lives his life a little bit too much for her. I doubt, though, that her moving into Mary’s would change the sex. The sex is the sex, Tom is Tom, and Tom doesn’t want a child. If only he knew I was sterile, but he just doesn’t believe it. If he could know it, though, and not be afraid to accept it, he could relax more. He could at least have sex without worrying about his fears coming true.

That very subtle, yet obvious feeling has come on saying that my period is just a few days away. About 2-4 days away. So, whether or not pre-cum really can impregnate a woman well enough, I’m still sterile. I just know it. Every core of my woman’s intuition, my vibes, my feelings, my gut instinct, my 6th sense, my logic, belief, etc., tells me that. There is no doubt about it. I just don’t know if it’s cuz of bad eggs or cuz of the uterus, but I know it’s nothing as simple as clogged fallopian tubes.

This is a serious long shot, but I wonder if it’s at all possible that the dog not being there has any connection to the letter to the city? But then why’s he still in the picture? Maybe they came out in person to see her at a time when he wasn’t there and she claimed that he just visits. Meanwhile, they saw the dog and told her to get rid of it. Like I said, I doubt this, though, cuz then I’d surely hear about it. She’d be over here screaming or seeking revenge on me by dragging me into court. I still say that they didn’t like my yelling at them so early in the morning any more than I appreciated the music at any hour, but more so in the early morning, and so they got or borrowed the dog for my sake, then ditched it.

Later...

No naughty freeloader yet. I got up at 7 PM and saw the car out front and knew he wasn’t in for the night. I then went out to feed Bunny and the kittens and to chase off Mama Bitch and could smell food from over there and hear a voice, too. It was I female voice I’d heard before, but again, although a black voice is a loud voice, I couldn’t make out what was said. It wasn’t the bitch, though, and the person talking wasn’t so mad as she always is. But why would they open their windows on a chilly evening of 50-something degrees?

Then at 8 PM, he left quietly. Very quietly. In fact, the only way I knew he left was cuz of the motor starting, which I wouldn’t have heard if I weren’t in the living room with no fans or TV on. I didn’t even hear a car door. I guess they go to bed early cuz the lights were out at 9 PM. Well, they do leave early. At just after 9:00 I heard one car door parallel to the back room where I am now that wasn’t very loud at all, so I knew he pulled into the carport for the night, then wondered - maybe the door slamming is the bitch’s doing. Whenever the slamming goes on, it’s when there’s more than one asshole coming/going.

Anyway, as much as I can’t stand them and wish they’d get the fuck out of here, they’ve been behaving well enough not to deserve a bottle toss unless I gave them one for all the times they didn’t behave (but that’d take 1000 bottles and more). Another thing I wonder, though, is if a bottle would prompt them to get another dog for protective reasons.

Yesterday was the first day I went without any wine since I began having wine coolers every day.

The fact that I can’t handle a kid and don’t deserve one is beside the point right now. The point is that this husband of mine has jerked me around about this kid shit from day one and I’m sick of it. I’m more than sick of it!

If I stood the slightest chance of being fixed, I can’t be cuz of his denial and refusal to cum much. He’s totally stolen even a one-in-a-million chance if there ever was one, and I meant it when I said I give what I get. His number one dream is to work at home and I’m gonna make sure he never has that. Never! He can’t just tell the fucking truth. Instead, when there’s something Tom doesn’t want to do or deal with, Tom denies it and makes excuses. What? Did he think his denial and his not doing anything to create a kid or fix me would make this all go away? He lied to me again. He told me he’d take the first step and make an appointment for a physical this month, but he hasn’t. Instead, he makes excuses about not having time, but he has time for other calls. If he wanted to make the appointment that bad, he’d set his alarm, get up and make it, then go back to bed if he had to. But he doesn’t want to see a doctor. And he can’t admit that, either. I also feel really angered and insulted over all the so-called remedies I’ve used for his so-called lack of cumming problem. He suggested I wear certain clothes, that we sleep together, that I quit smoking, and so much more since I’ve known him. I did almost everything he suggested I do to “fix” him and where is our sex life now? Right where it’s been since the summer of 96. Nothing I do is good enough for him. He’d rather lie, deny, and make excuses.

Here’s a classic example of how he won’t say no to something he doesn’t want to do. For nearly a year now, he’s agreed that he’d send my nieces letters and I remind him periodically, but does he do it? No. Instead of saying no, he says he’ll do it, but actions speak louder than words and when actions don’t go with someone’s words, that usually means that they’re liars. It could be cuz of fear or for some other reason, but it all comes down to the same thing and that’s not doing what you say you’re gonna fucking do! I’m tired of his not doing the things he says he’ll do and I’m tired of him, God, and this whole damn issue playing on my emotions.

Now that the long weekend’s just about over, and now that it’s later in the evening, I can relax enough to write. Plus, I’m alone now, cuz he’s gone to work, so I can concentrate better. I don’t concentrate well with others around even if they’re quiet and not right near me. The weekend went surprisingly, but pleasantly quiet. There were weekend stereos cruising through, but all next door gave me were some door slams. I’m still blessed with there being no dog over there, and the music has yet to become a problem again. If the door slamming’s as deliberate as I think it is, they may assume, but they don’t know for a fact, that the door slamming gets on my nerves too, so maybe, like I said before, they suspect me and don’t want to do anything that they know may provoke me into harming them or the house. Or maybe the door slams were cuz they heard us talking out back when he was working on the old washer and they wanted to be heard back. One of the door slams they gave me was so fucking loud, the house shook. Then later, at 10:40 PM, the shithead went out and slammed me a few more times, so I went out and pelted back and beat an old waterproof radio on the side of the house by their house a few times.

Later...

I felt a bit warm and dizzy there, so I stepped out for some cool air and you know what? Unless they’re in bed early, they might not even be home next door, cuz there are no lights on.

Anyway, Tom fixed the old washer and we washed the new, big comforter that won’t fit in our stackables. It was pretty funny what with the washer being out on the patio!

The weekend may have been peaceful enough as far as any neighbors go, but some stereo, that you could tell was miles away, was a real annoyance for a good hour or more from out back. It could’ve been worse, though, since it could only be heard out back, but what a sick world we live in - knowing that someone’s stereo from miles away can be a problem. They’re that bassy, and bass travels that well. And like I said, people would cruise up and down our street with those fucking things that are so goddamn common now. Another way I can tell if it’s a freeloader that just bassed in or out is by the motion sensor security light in the carport. Cuz of the soundproofing material that’s in the bedroom windows, I can’t tell if it’s on or not, but from the window in the back room, I can as long as the back room is not too lit up. In the daytime, I’d have to go to the side of the house to see if it was on.

In answer to why dad’s not getting his legs taken care of now since he’s in pain, it’s cuz they’re busy at the store, and it’s not a life or death situation.

I’ve been appreciative of the cut-down in calls from Andy, but since it’s been several days, and since I’d like to hear all about his trip to L.A. with Michelle to see Xena, I left him a message.

As for my weight, once again, you really can’t fight fate and win. Yes, I must be compensated. My losing weight is 100% hopeless. I’m just not meant to be thin again and nothing I do can change that. These metabolism pills I’ve got are a bunch of bull. They’re probably just sugar or some substance like that that fills the capsules. And I’m just too much of a wimp to stop eating altogether. So I’ll be fat, but at least I’ll be a fat person who can breathe. I’ll use the money I save on cigarettes to buy new clothes as I keep getting bigger, and I will keep getting bigger. I just know it like I know I’m sterile and meant to be forever childless. You might say that’s got some good in it, too, after all the shit I go through trying to handle the not smoking, as well as for other reasons.

Tom’s still doing and is always gonna do what he does best - deny I have a plumbing problem, so he doesn’t have to deal with it. It gets more and more obvious each year that he doesn’t want a kid, or to go to a fertility doctor, so his way of dealing with it - there’s not a problem. I understand his ways, though, cuz I was once that way myself. If something was going on that I didn’t like or didn’t want to deal with, I too would deny it or I’d play it down.

Tom’s been passing a few tests I’ve set up and again, I know when he’ll do what I say he’ll do, and when he’ll do the direct opposite of what I said he’ll do. Due to my saying things that implied I didn’t want to screw when I was mid-cycle, he made sure we did. And due to my saying he preferred sex the most right before and after my period, he made sure he didn’t touch me all weekend, which is close enough. It’s due on the 25th. I don’t know if my getting so fat has a play in it, although he does tell me I’m beautiful all the time, but part of it is cuz he doesn’t balance things well. He either has to work or screw, but he can’t mix business with pleasure. I see it to my benefit as time goes on, though. If it were new, or if one of us was gonna die soon, or if we had a shot at a kid, then I’d still be bitching about the part-time sex we have, but I know that he likes it this way deep down, too. He could’ve asked for it any day, but he didn’t, so that tells me that he must think full-time is too much too, and I also understand it’s not in his nature to have a high appetite and that he’s in his 40s.

Anyway, after all the questioning I’ve done in the past about sex and Tom, now I question sex and myself. Just what has happened to my appetite? I know we’re not a new couple, we’re infertile, etc., but I thought women got hornier into their 30s. It seems that for the last month, month and a half, my appetite’s been much lower. This isn’t a complaint, though, but merely an observation. I kind of like it this way, cuz he couldn’t keep up with me when I’d want it nearly every day and it seems that the lower my sex drive is, the lower my desire for a kid is, too.

I scanned all my favorite drawings (about 40) into the computer. Tom created a new directory for me to put them in there. It’s similar to my directories for Gloria and Norah pictures and for my journals.

I love this thing called Media Manager, which lets me view my drawings, pictures, etc., on little icons.

Today’s the day God killed my nephew a year ago. I just hope Larry and Sandy aren’t too depressed right now, but what can you expect?

Tom took the time to download this thing that lets me view and install/delete fonts, but it’s fucked up. It tried to tell me one wasn’t installed that really was installed. It wouldn’t let me delete any, either.

As hungry as I am, my diet’s working so far. I awoke at 118. Tom got an old-fashioned dial scale too, since digital ones fluctuate more. So, I know I can still begin the weight loss process by eating just a few bites, but the question is, will it keep going after I start eating again? Or will I just stay the same or gain the weight back? The trick is to manipulate the thyroid/metabolism enough to get it to learn to lose weight on its own and not worry about what I eat. Well, time will tell what’ll happen with it.

Later...

I realize now that Paula likes to play phone tag. I know she’s busy with that kid, but it’s become rather obvious, so I’ll just talk to her whenever I talk to her, but at least she doesn’t call me every day.

After listening to music, I looked out front and saw the car there. I said, damn! I didn’t get to hear how it came in. But I knew it wasn’t in for the night being parked up front, so I waited and heard him leave quietly a short while later. He hasn’t come in yet and I’m anxious to hear how that’ll be. I only heard one door shut softly, so he’s coming in by himself when he does come in.

Later...

I had some popcorn today and fried up some French fries. This is cuz I’ve been stuck, and I know the grease helps with that. Those fries put a couple of pounds back on me, though, so I really have to watch it. I cannot believe how hungry I am and the appetite to which I’ve become accustomed. Something up there really wants me to have my share of starving bouts as an adult. It nearly starved me off just for letting me come out here. I mean, I really had to pay for coming out here by not having food. And now I have to sit and suffer through hunger pangs or keep eating and keep gaining weight. The bitch of it is that I can’t see myself ever getting lucky enough to just happen to lose weight without even trying. I think I’m gonna have to really starve the shit out of myself in order to lose it. Then after I get done doing that, I better hope the weight doesn’t come right back on.

Like I said, something up there insists I pay for every little thing. I still have a bad feeling that there’s no beating it and that if I want to enjoy the ability to breathe, I have to get fat for it. The missing cigarettes should be enough compensation, though, but no, I have to pay dearly for every little thing.

We screwed yesterday and he didn’t cum like I thought he would cuz of the time of month, but then again, that’s something he rarely does anyway. He thinks that a woman ovulates a whole week, but it’s more like 1-2 days. No wonder he cums so little if that’s what he thinks! Well, at least it keeps the sheets clean.

The werewolf (Randy) did get in touch with Andy after all. He said all he got was a frame, but no picture. He thanked me for trying, though, and says he’s gonna mail him a picture. Why? Why not just meet the guy in person?

Later...

If he came in next door, I didn’t hear him.

Last night, I contemplated throwing a bottle over there. I mean, I really thought about it good and hard. I looked out front to make sure that RV wasn’t visible from the front (they still come to see the old man, but they haven’t brought that whiny, shrilly dog of theirs since my note, thank God!). It wasn’t visible, but it was from out back and I don’t need any witnesses. They sleep in this thing, and someone could come up front for something where there are no curtains drawn and see me hurling the bottle. Another problem that could come out of the bottle-throwing idea, if I threw it into the carport, is that I don’t want it to hit the car and look too obvious (like someone doesn’t like its stereo). If I were to walk out into the street to see how deep in the carport it was parked so I’d know where to aim, and was seen walking out there and looking, that’d seem awfully obvious, too, not that it could prove anything. I intend to wash that bottle and handle and throw it with plastic gloves on. So then there’ll be no saliva or prints. So, I thought about different things I could do, but then I realized that problems could come out of these things. I’m not gonna worry too much about them, cuz if I’ve got something I really want to do to them badly enough, I’ll do it. However, the first thing they’re gonna do if I throw a bottle is come over here either with or without the cops and ask if I did it. If they didn’t do that, then they’ll go around to the neighbors and ask if they saw anything. So, there are some potential problems if I do something and if I don’t do anything. I don’t want to not do anything and have them end up thinking that letter was a joke. I want them to take that letter very seriously and let them know someone means business. Maybe they have and that’s why they’ve been quiet up till now. Maybe they really don’t want to take the chance of provoking anyone around here, in case it’s me that sent it, and I know my name has crossed their sick, selfish little minds. Or maybe they don’t want to look bad themselves if they ever get in any legal battles. If I go with the late-night banging sprees, and if they hear them, that will look obvious too, and it could also drag others into it, too, and wake them up. This is between me and them only, so I may go a more destructive route, obvious or not.