The cat’s now in the window trying to get me to go out and chase him off as he likes me to do cuz I don’t appreciate being stared down. Not even by a cat. However, this time I’m not gonna give this damn cat the satisfaction of a chase.

Animals can sometimes be distracting when you’re trying to write, but just think of how much more of a distraction it’d be if I had had a kid. Cuz then we’re not talking about just chewing sounds or sounds of movements from rodents or cats smacking walls and doors, we’re talking about having to get up every other minute to feed it, change it, do this for it, do that for it. Once they get to where they can walk and talk, they always want to show you this and have you come see that and ask a million questions.

That’s the second weekend stereo I’ve heard since 9:00. Yes, it’s that time again and when I go to bed next, which will be around the freeloader’s peak time, it’ll be stressful. You just never know what to expect on weekends and this freeloader is so unpredictable. I mean, he is and he isn’t. I know he’ll be a problem again, I just don’t know when. He could give me 2-3 weeks of no music, then out of the blue, up he starts again with his shit. Since it’s been quiet that I know of, does this mean they still don’t know I haven’t been served? Cuz I figured that it’s when they realize they aren’t gonna get me into court and don’t feel like wasting their time trying anymore, is when they’re gonna pitch a fit.

As almost always, the barometer has risen and the clouds have cleared and the weather’s to be great, just in time for the weekend.

I hate holidays and Saturdays and Sundays from 1 PM - 8 PM. I wish it was Sunday evening now. No, I wish it was Monday morning this time around, cuz then we’ll be off shopping!

At least I don’t feel like one of God’s extras cast into this world as much anymore. One who just sits on the sidelines and watches others live their lives but doesn’t get to participate in life herself. I mean, sometimes I still feel like the purposes I currently have in life are all that’s ever gonna be. Nothing more in the future, except to move. I’m sure I’m right, too, that I’ve peaked and lived my life and can’t do/have much more than I already have, but it doesn’t get to me the way it used to. Guess I’m just used to it and the idea of it. Nonetheless, living for Tom, my animals, to move, and to enjoy my hobbies, beats living for an income barely suitable for a rat, no life, and all kinds of problems with people.

I really appreciated Evie’s email and her generous offers and her understanding. She said she likes me a lot and doesn’t want me doing anything that’d make me uncomfortable, but maybe in April, we can get together. She also said to let her know if I want a ride anywhere or if I need anything when I have my teeth done. Now that I’ve already got someone who drives and who’s supportive of me and who takes care of me here at home, these people crawl out of the woodwork to offer help, but before, I had no one. Anyone who I could get an occasional ride considered me a burden for bumming a “free” ride from them. Well, friends aren’t supposed to “charge” friends with favors. Friendship is supposed to be enough. I mean, Andy gets on my nerves with the favors he wants to be done at times, but I still do it cuz he is a friend. I may bitch about it, but I try to be there for him whenever possible.

I still want to know what Evie’s sudden interest in me is. I know she doesn’t get a kick out of my sterility and therefore wants to rub her kids in my face. She’s not like that, but some people would be sick enough to do that. There are some people who lack sensitivity to things they have never had to endure. So, I think she may feel sorry for me and it’s too bad if she does, cuz I don’t need no one’s pity. In fact, I’d really like to get together not just cuz she seems so nice, but if anything, it’ll help me. Watching what mothers go through with their screaming, destructive kids always makes me appreciate my sterility more and not take it for granted. I then see it more as a gift, than a punishment.

Anyway, Tom’s side of the family is great, as diverse as it is. There are some Hispanic and black people and there are different religions. Some think that Satan sleeps under their pillows, some don’t, some are rich, some average, and some poor. Although Margaret, Ma’s sister, is the only crazy one that I know of, my grandniece Jennifer is the only one who’s half black, and Marie, Bobby’s wife, is the only Mexican one that I know of. I wish Mom would quit being such a little user, though!

I just went outside and took the bar down that goes across one of the back room windows. It was originally put up for the birds, but now the cats love to pounce on it and jolt half the house and startle me.

Later...

I wonder when Tom will be up. Believe it or not, I’m not looking forward to our weekend sex. It just isn’t in me anymore, but it’s better than being the little nympho I used to be. I guess I’m just conditioned now to this part-time sexual relationship. At least I have him full-time, though. Well, when he isn’t taking care of someone else’s car or house I do. Anyway, at least I can fake an orgasm, whereas guys can’t. Although I don’t wish to be dishonest in that way. It’s just that he told me it matters to him. I never thought it did. I always thought cumming didn’t matter to him, be it with him or with me. In fact, he’s made references to his preferring not to cum, and never any about whether or not I came, so I just assumed it didn’t matter with me one way or the other.

However, there won’t be no weekend sex next weekend. That’s when I’m mid-cycle, so he’d probably be too scared to cum, and God wouldn’t allow us to get together more than likely, cuz he’s gotta act like I’m this perfectly fertile thing whose time for motherhood just hasn’t come yet.

I’m doing the laundry that never dries right now. The washer’s fine, except for huge things like comforters, but the dryer sucks. It takes forever for just a few light pieces of clothing to dry.

Later...

Tom’s still not up. He must’ve stayed up very late yesterday, although, on the weekend, he does try to be on a day schedule. He has to work today too, as he does the last Saturday of every month. He’s scheduled for vacation in April, as well as either September or October. I forgot which one. He mentioned us going to SeaWorld in California in April. Sounds great! Hopefully, nothing will come up to stop us from going, but if it does, that’s life, I guess. And I already got to California, even if it was to just drive past the border and cruise around nothing but empty desert for a while.

Anyway, another thing that baffles me about Bob is why he’s still in jail. Don’t these people always get out before most of their sentence is up? I think he mentioned something about parole in 2006, but his 1994 sentence was for 10-14 years.

What is it with me having to shit when at the computer? Every time I’m in the middle of typing is when I have to take a dump. Well, when I’m constipated, I’ll keep that in mind and type like hell.

As shitting and typing go together (at least for me they do) so do GPs and their dramatics. Gotta run like hell most of the time when people walk by them and act all afraid, but what they really want is attention. Well, it’s hard not to notice them dart right by you, that’s for sure.

I’ve still been concentrating on stomach and thigh exercises daily, but it’s still too soon to know what’s going on with the weight. By the middle of next week, I should know if I’ve finally got a shot at losing the weight, or if something up there still wants me to be the porker that I am.

I think right now, though, I’ll go put on a pot of my decaf coffee, add a pinch of cinnamon, and then go plop myself down in the recliner with my last library book. Maybe we’ll go to the library on Monday, as well as to Wal-Mart.

Later...

I am almost done with my book. I am trying to read it slowly since I won’t be getting any more books for at least a few days.

I think I’ll start my weekly letters sometime soon. For now…I hope Andy comes over quietly since I’ll be asleep, to get Laura’s $40 I’ll be leaving in between the front doors for him and to leave me the journals he has for me. I don’t know what his obsession is with turning visits and picking things up at people’s houses into such a big deal. He’s always got to make it such an ordeal for himself and put off and delay and just be a general nuisance.

I asked Andy if the journals he got me were wire-bound. Nope. Too bad.

Later...

I just thinned out the sawdust that was in the middle-size Play City cage, which is my least favorite cage of theirs. It’s got a weird layout. I thinned it out, though, cuz some little devil keeps pushing some sawdust out through the hole that the wheel that goes with that cage hooks into, onto my table below it.

A few of the mice are still up, but they’ll be going to bed soon. The cats have finally settled down out there. God, why do you send me the things I don’t want? I don’t need all these cats, God, so can you take these 3 cats, plus the millions more to come, then give me one child? Just one? No, of course not, and no, the cats haven’t settled down since White Feet just jumped up in the window. Is that a sign from God? One saying he wants me caring for animals and not a child? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

A part of me is tempted to move my computer into one of the bedrooms so I can concentrate better, but nah. It’s not worth the hassle and it’s no problem when I’m on days. See, there are advantages to both nights and days. The animals are asleep in the daytime and things are open, but then there’s noise from dogs, people, etc. At night, the animals are rowdy, but I’m pretty much free from next door’s shit. Until they have a dog barking in spurts again in the wee hours of the morning, anyway.

Later...

The freeloader has made his first of his many trips in and out early today. It just left, still without music. So, he’ll come and go again at around 11:00, then early afternoon, then late afternoon, then early evening. I think they’re drug runs he’s making. I just don’t know if it’s to buy or to sell. I’m sure they’re users, though, and that bitch’s bone-thinness is drug-induced.

Tom and I had a pleasant morning, but a half-hour ago he left for work. He’ll be back around when I crash between noon-2:00.

We didn’t have much time for screwing this morning, but we had a nice chat as we cuddled in bed.

He told me quite a few things about his mom that he’s just learning. Some of them he knew, some of them he just learned since the doctors are now saying she only has a year left to live, and these things are pretty horrible.

Ma’s life was no joyride, that’s for sure. In fact, she really had it rough all the way till the kids were pretty much grown. In the first part of her marriage, they lived in a trailer with no water or bathroom, and had to go down the street to go to the bathroom. Yuck! And that was considered a step up from being abandoned as a child. Apparently, her folks were just so poor, that she and one of the other kids were sent to some camp. The camp was an OK place. Then when it was time to go home, the parents had moved. So the state made them take them back, but then Ma’s ma died of cancer in her 30s. Then she had stepparents who were violent towards each other, drunk a lot, and ignored the kids, too.

Tom said that even though she went through all those horrible things, she never blamed it on God or felt she had “lived her life.” Well, I do believe there’s both a good and an evil force out there and it’s not that I feel I’ve peaked and lived my life in all ways. I know we’ll move someday and that I’ll have/do new things. I’m just saying I’ll never have a child. I wish I could feel that bad things happen just because and not feel that there’s a God or a devil to blame, but I do. And I wish I could work on my anger and patience problems, but sometimes it’s easy to look at such a wonderful person like Ma and say how I wish I could be like her in some traits, but then a whole different story to actually be like her and have some of her characteristics.

Another weekend has just about arrived with these freeloaders as neighbors. Again, though, all’s been quiet. And at the same time, I love not knowing that they exist, I also know it’s just a matter of time before they make a ruckus again. But hopefully, I’m right about my now believing there is a chance they can hear me making late-night noise following their noise and that they don’t want to be bothered or awoken at night, so they shut up when they hear me. And I most certainly will make a lot of noise at night, should they give me their music, hours of bouncing balls, or anything that intrudes upon my peace/concentration/nerves.

I wish it could always be this way - no excessive door slamming, no dog, no music, but I know that’s just a dream. He could be coming in for lunch again lately with music, but if he is, I wouldn’t know it cuz I’ve been asleep around lunchtime. I also couldn’t say how he’s coming in after work, either.

I wonder, though, are they ever gonna break the fuck up? Or are they bound by an addiction to be together forever? Since the dog arrived right around when he returned with the boy, unless the boy’s always been there and I didn’t know it, the dog may have also been a gift for the bitch to let him back in, too, besides to torture me with for going off on them and just because they knew it would bother me.

Anyway, Tom and I discussed going over to his ma’s on Monday, the day we’ll be going to the store, to see her, Neva and Peggy, but now Tom says he hopes I don’t want to go. He says they’re loud and all that, so fine, we don’t have to go. I only care to see just Mom anyway, since I don’t even know Neva and Peggy.

Got an email from Evie and through her indirect, but to the point enough, bitching about the never-ending demands of motherhood, I realize once again just how gifted I may be, rather than cursed. I would be far from upset, although scared if I found out this second I was pregnant, but again, is it worth crying over the fact that the doctors won’t be able to help me conceive?

Anyway, she wants to know if she and the kids can come visit in March. I asked Tom what he thought after we both wondered aloud what the sudden interest was. I hope she doesn’t feel sorry for me since I mentioned I can’t have kids. Anyway, Tom reminded me that March is teeth month. I told her I’ll have to go weekly in March, then it’ll drop down to monthly for probably 18 months. Also, we’ll get together at a later date, but I don’t know when.

I don’t mind her coming over at all, it’s just that you know how it is for me with people breaking things whenever someone visits. Andy’s been fine lately, but who knows how he’d be if he came over as much as he used to? I don’t want to just come out and demand she hold those kids down while she visits, but they worry me. As I told her, this house isn’t baby-proof and not as safe. I can’t afford to have two kids trashing things in here. Neither of us needs that. That’s another burden I’d have had to have gone through if we had had a kid - elevating everything up out of its reach. Now Evie doesn’t strike me as your typical mom who’s irresponsible and who doesn’t give a shit. I think she’d be kind enough to watch her kids, but it’s hard and I understand this. Marla’s a lot like her and yet I had to be the one to keep her youngest kid from ransacking this place. And from killing the animals. The idea of it reminds me of Ashley, Kara’s kid at the Vista. As soon as she released that thing from her grip on her lap, off it was to destroy things.

It’s pretty light out there now and not as cold as it had been. I don’t know if it’s gonna rain or not, but the sky’s nothing but clouds. That’s why it’s light out and things are illuminated well enough for even someone like me to see who’s a bit night blind.

The older couple out back, one of whose name is Gloria and who came to our tag sale, must be insomniacs. Every time I’m up throughout the night, I see what I believe is their bathroom light every hour or two.

Later...

I’m really looking forward to getting this weekend done and over with and going shopping. If I could make it Monday morning at the snap of my fingers, I would.

I still can’t believe that freeloader hasn’t tried to have me re-served and I can’t believe there hasn’t been noise daily for more than a few minutes. You mean to tell me I did something that I actually got away with? It seems unbelievable! I’m not stupid, though, I knew that if I didn’t have to deal with the hassles of court, even though it wouldn’t have done them any good, or if they didn’t make a scene in a big way every day (not that I wouldn’t kill them for it), that God would pay me back. He’d see to it that I got my punishment for that bottle toss, although I think sterilizing any woman is more than a lifelong punishment for anything she could ever do wrong in her life. In fact, the punishment of sterility could never fit any crime committed by me. Maybe someone else, but not me.

It is a bit of a consoling thought to know that that’d cost a lot of money for him to run the car and its stereo for several minutes every day in time. There have been a few times where he did weeding, ball playing, or just sat there for the hell of it with it blaring for more than a few seconds, but still, I thank God this hasn’t seemed to be something he finds worth the cost so far. Trust me, though, if it gets worth the cost to him, he won’t have a stereo left to blast. I’m surprised I haven’t heard music regularly from their house, but then again I’m not. They really only make these super bassy stereos for cars. The idea is for the lonely, desperate wanna-be-heard people of this sick world, is to cruise through many streets with it. So, since the basic idea for such inhumane bass levels is to get attention, you can only get a handful of house’s attention in a house. In a car, you can get hundreds. And the attention of other motorists.

Later...

Oh, brother! Andy’s lonely, so he wants to talk. God! Send him a boyfriend, please?! I knew it’d be a matter of time when he’d be up to his same old phone shit. We just talked and exchanged messages last night, but he’s all bummed out cuz he couldn’t get sex from that sick fuck Quinn.

He’s ready to get Laura’s rent money and God, I hope to hell this isn’t a monthly thing! I’m gonna tell him to just leave the journals he got for me in the door and I’ll leave the money out, too, cuz I’m not gonna play phone several times a day for 3 days prior to his visit that he’s 4 hours late for. So rather than try to change his ways, we’ll just do it this way for a while, and that way he won’t feel pressured. Meanwhile, I’m not gonna be put out of my way by an irresponsible druggie.

Guess it’s time to stop feeding these stray cats again. They’re really getting on my nerves and taking advantage of my hospitality once again. Therefore, if I don't give them anything for a few days, maybe they’ll put two and two together and realize that their racket and pushiness means no food.

Later...

I just went out and sort of made Bunny come in. He prefers it outside at this time of year, but I just thought I’d let him and Velvet visit. Oh my God, though! I can’t believe the change in Bunny. He always took care of and was friendly to Piggy and Spunky and loved to clean them, but not with this one. Every time Velvet would get near him, he’d lunge at him and Velvet was screaming, so I threw Bunny back out. I guess the cats taught him that by the way he and they play tag a lot. Well, he’s gonna have to stay an outdoor rabbit then and he’ll have to find a way to survive the heat of the summer. Everyone’s dogs do it, so he should be OK, too.

Jesus Christ! It sounds like a distant kennel out there and it’s just after 3:00 in the morning. I can hear at least 4 different dogs. Does anyone care about their dogs or their neighbors anymore?

Tom was really pissed about how they fucked up on fixing the oil leak in Ma’s car. I don’t blame him, either. Shit, though, we have two cars and two houses! We don’t need this shit. We need to move and live our own lives.

Andy, who had to leave the maximum amount of time permitted for each message as always, told me he had a dream involving my parents. He said he was at their place, and they were assembling stuff to send to me. He asked what the occasion was for them to be sending me stuff since it wasn’t my birthday or anything like that. Then he said they were throwing in some ugly journals and he told them I don’t want them anymore, cuz I’ll be making my own. Then he said they were putting in other stuff that he said I’d like, but can’t remember what the stuff was.

Later...

I am thoroughly confused the more I think of Bob’s case. Tom and I were talking yesterday about how statutory rape means you had sex with someone underage and it’s a crime even if they were willing, which is what we thought Bob was charged with.

However, I just went and checked the old article I have and although you can’t always buy what the papers say, he was charged with statutory rape, forcible rape, and distributing alcohol to minors.

The distributing alcohol, I can see him being dumb enough to do. I can also see him screwing around with a teenager, but only an older one. Not a 12-year-old one and certainly not forcing sex on anyone. It just isn’t Bob Pratt. It’s not the old fart’s style and he’s just too much of a wimp to force anyone to do anything.

Well, no one will ever really know what happened, other than the people who were there.

Velvet’s adjusting pretty well. He stands still and lets me pick him up now, rather than running away. He loves to burrow under my neck/hair when I take him out.

I should’ve known better, too, that just cuz I can digest dairy easier, doesn’t mean God’s suddenly gonna change his mind about controlling my body. I’m back up to 128 pounds, but I’ve been sticking to the diet like I’m supposed to. God just isn’t gonna let me be thin again, that’s for sure. Not if I’m gonna be able to breathe better, he’s not.

The thing I hate about God, or whatever this outer source is, is that I’m powerless to stop whatever it is. This isn’t some other human being that I can reach out and wring their neck. This is some force that’s got me at its own mercy and whatever it says, is how it goes. I just wish it’d go pick on someone else and go control their lives/body for a change and leave me the fuck alone and give me the freedom to choose my own path and my own destiny in this life. It should be my right to be able to be thin. It should be my right to have a child. Nobody, not no God, not no person, should have the control/right to tell me how to live my life. And I know this weight thing is just because God wants me to be fat, and not cuz of a medical problem. Even if I did have a medical problem, he’d never let it be detected by a nurse/doctor. He wouldn’t want it discovered cuz he wouldn’t want me to deal with it and fix it. He’d want it to keep on controlling me.

When I look for things to say I’m wrong about my fear that Tom doesn’t want a kid, I realize this - he’d never leave like most men do if we had a kid. I just know this. He’s the responsible type, who’s practical and logical. He wouldn’t ever want to give the baby mice to the cats cuz of how it’d play on his conscience, so maybe his devotion to getting rid of the mice in the responsible way we did, is a sign that I’m wrong about him. I sure hope so!

Mary and Dave got a small, black cocker spaniel the other day from the HS.

I tackled the cleaning in here and got that out of the way. Did some singing, too. Now I think I’ll go do some reading.

OK, here’s what we “say” we’re gonna do, but if we can really do it without making excuses or chickening out, remains to be seen, not to mention the curve balls God will throw at us, or the things he may do to block us entirely.

Within the next 3 weeks, he’s gonna set us up with the right doctors and make an appointment for himself. Then, I’ll make an appointment for me. If all is OK with us both, then we’ll set up an appointment with the fertility people.

He still knows in his mind that a child is gonna happen. I know differently, but at least I can finally deal with my emotional state by having a doctor tell me there’s nothing they can do. That way I’ll know I didn’t make excuses or chicken out and that I went and found out what the scoop was that’s caused my sterility. Then, I can hopefully move on with this sort of closure.

I wish I knew he could be right about it happening anyway, no matter what, and I also wish I knew I could be right about his mother. He wonders if her having her sister Neva and Neva’s daughter Peggy visit, is due to her feeling she hasn’t got much time left. Well, I can see God feeling she’s done her time and with her gone, people wouldn’t have to worry so much or have as much to do (till it was replaced with new stuff to do), but she’s such a sweet lady. She’ll be missed and it’ll be sad to see her go whenever she does go. It’s too bad I didn’t have the 25 years or so to have known her and dad like Nora has.

Later...

I’m down a pound or two and Tom says it really does work - the Slim-Fast diet I’m on. It’s an easy plan too, and I know it works, but the question still is - will God let it work for me?

Anyway, I’m gonna go relax with my decaf coffee which I’ve been having plenty of, and maybe do some reading, too.

I sang earlier and it was a complete compensation for the night before as I knew it would be. Last night I sang great. It was crystal clear and all was fine, but tonight my typical trade-in for not smoking allergy nose that’s 10 times worse since I quit smoking, was in the way. God, either give me the voice to sing with and leave it alone and let me use it or just forget it! I feel like I’m being teased with this gift and like something up there wants me to pay for using this voice. It’s like it’s teasing me with it, allowing me to use it, but only with a price to pay. Can’t I ever have something for nothing? I don’t care how much of a cheap Jew or a cheap person that sounds like, either. It’s just that I’m so sick of having to work for this and pay for that. I just wish God would bless me with something where there were no strings attached for once.

Later...

I won’t write much now, cuz I’m frying up some chicken for me and the cats.

Anyway, the Lactaid still helps me to digest dairy without gas, cramps and bloating, so that’s good. I’m down from 128 to 125. I’m shocked and pleased, but still not willing to get my hopes up. I seem to have mustered up the will to stick to the diet plan, but now, I have to wait and see if God will let me do this.

Later...

Got a message from my folks saying congratulations for not smoking - they’re proud of me.

Gotta get Tom up soon. I guess he goes in at 11:30 tonight. He’s hoping to find a job within the bank that’ll give him set hours instead of having to go in at 7:30 one night, midnight the next, then 1:30, then 11:30.

I am now perfectly content with sex once a week, which is basically all our busyness/schedules will allow us to have.

I’m not looking forward to this weekend since they were quiet last weekend. I figure they’re gonna make up for quiet time sooner or later and I just hope to hell this weekend isn’t it cuz I’ll be asleep during the daytime. Or for the later part of the day, which is when they’re more active. Between 2 or 3 PM - around 8 PM on weekends, is when they’re more apt to make a scene.

Anyway, on Monday we’ll be going shopping. I want to get some new pet toys. I’m gonna get a new cage for the mice and new tubes/wheels. Then I may get myself a few larger pairs of panties, and a couple of pairs of sweatpants. Hopefully, this will be it as far as buying bigger clothes and I’ll end up back into my smaller clothes, but time will tell.

Ma’s sister Neva and her daughter Peggy were due to arrive from Michigan today. Hopefully, they got here OK. They’ll be here for a week. Then the week after that when I’m mid-cycle, God can again act like there’s some big pregnancy to dodge and tie Tom up with the move into Mary’s house.

Here’s our current plan that he and I discussed, but I don’t know. I just know something will come up to botch up our plans. He’s gonna get scared and use me as an excuse to put off or bail out or manipulate the doctors, should we ever get to these people. They say to trust your gut instinct. Well, either I’m paranoid (which I wish was the case, since no one likes to know their suspicions are legit) or I have a reason to suspect like I do that Tom will somehow either con his way out of the doctors altogether or con them out of helping us to have a child. Like I said, I hope I’m wrong. I hope it’s just a case of my being paranoid, due to those whom I was supposed to have been able to trust, that fucked me over in the past.

I felt kind of hurt and insulted at how he said since he’s never had an ear done like I did to see if I’d stand by him and still love him like he did for me, he has his doubts in me. He fears what I’ll tell the doctors about my believing he doesn’t want a kid. Then why’s he afraid of that if that’s not the case as he insists? I told him I wouldn’t say anything about his not wanting a child/not cumming out of fear. If that is the case, then I trust that these doctors, being the professionals that they are, would pick up on that and would address the issue themselves if they felt that was an issue. Anyway, I certainly wouldn’t want to see him have to go through the pain of having his head drilled like I did. I wouldn’t want to see him have to suffer in any way, but hopefully someday, someway, he’ll see that he can count on me to still love him and stand by him should he be unfortunate enough to ever have some trauma or big ordeal going on with him.

Ma’s car needs work done on it cuz it leaks oil. Just another thing that’s gotta be dealt with and that we gotta give our time to. The good thing about it is that Tom’s taken it into a shop to have them do it, so he doesn’t have to spend all the more time on it that he doesn’t have.

Although light, I finally did have a good flow there for a while and some cramps. So, I’d say that there’s nothing wrong with my cycle and that it’s normal for me for it to be the way it is.

Tom’s excuses and his stalling on entering some kind of fertility program don’t really bum me out as much these days. First off, I really don’t want to make my husband do something I know he doesn’t want to do, regardless of what he says and secondly, I guess I just realize there’s so much good in not having a child. I’d still take one if it could come, of course, but since it can’t, I focus more on the bright side of never having one, and in doing so, I can see all the good in it.

Tomorrow’s the day I hope to hell that all these mice are gone. That seems a little too good to be true, though, so maybe most of them will be gone at least. I figured God’s gotta make up for how easy it was to get rid of those I didn’t want the last time by having it take longer to get rid of these and by not being able to get rid of them all at once.

So far, so good. The reason I couldn’t do the Slim-Fast diet plan, which is so simple and is only a matter of one’s own will, was cuz of my intolerance to dairy products. I had been hesitant to try anything available for help with that cuz I was afraid it’d be BS like most things are. But so far, so good, thank God! I don’t seem to have the usual bloating, gas, and cramps that occur whenever I have dairy products.

Later...

Getting the last journal bound sure was a bitch. I kind of had to do it backward cuz it was too hard to get the paper onto the wire without something sturdy supporting it.

I’m also switching coffee to help against having sore tits every fucking month. I was lucky if I could get halfway through my cycle before having sore tits. And caffeine is the number one cause of that. So now I hopefully won’t have to have sore tits for 2 or 3 weeks before each period. I got regular decaf coffee that I’ll brew in the Malita. I make great cinnamon coffee, too, by adding a pinch of cinnamon to the grinds before watering them down.

Anyway, I’m gonna go and check out the last library book I have here.

Later...

The freeloader just let me know he was in for the night by two door slams, but not as bad of a slam as he could give me and it’s better than music.

Thank God I woke up when I did, cuz I’d have been woken up for damn sure what with the storm we had. My folks had this storm too, as did the whole country. There was lots of thunder and lightning, some rain, but boy were there huge pieces of hale! I thought it was gonna take out the living room window for a minute there and Tom and I had to shout to hear each other over it. The backyard was Memory Lane for me as it looked like when the snow is beginning to melt back east. Didn’t bother Bunny, though. Nonetheless, there were scattered thin patches of hale all over the place and it took a couple of hours for it to melt.

Here it goes again. It’s raining again out there.

In other news, Tom brought the 32 babies to the pet store and thankfully, the woman there thought they were so cute that she took them all. So, they’re on sale for $1.50 each and hopefully they’ll go to good homes with people who’ll love them. I was surprised they were selling for $1.50 and not $2.50. I thought $2.50 was what we paid for the original 3, but not according to Tom.

So, I scrubbed everything down, which took forever, and the smallest Play City cage that Mary gave me, finally cracked up. It had cracks in it for a while from normal wear and tear, but it finally demolished itself as I was trying to attach a tube to it.

So now I have 10 ladies - Shy, Ziggy, Tanner, Patch, Baby Patch, Tanner, Spot, Star, and the two Cocoas.

Just took a moment to appreciate and enjoy the peace and quiet from dogs till tomorrow morning. Just think, if that dog, or any dog, were next door right now, it’d be yipping away and all the more of a task it’d be to keep from running over there and beating the living shit out of them.

Later...

God, just give me a reason to need a hysterectomy! I still feel that that’d be the best thing since there’s no way I’ll ever have a child. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with periods, any more than I’d have to deal with going to the doctors and what it may do to our relationship. Is our love really strong enough to withstand all the testing and questions they’d ask us? Well, since I’m sort of scared to find out as much as I’d still like a child, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting up the guts to find out if I just needed a hysterectomy.

We all have things we want in life that we can never have by any means or under any circumstances. If I had that kid right now, I’d just have some other problem. Everyone has problems and if it isn’t this, it’s that.

Where’s White Feet? I haven’t seen her/him all day.

Just another day and hopefully all, if not most, of these damn baby mice will be gone. They stink! It’s not so much that they themselves stink, it’s all the piss. It smells like someone wet a bed in here and it’s just so gross. Another good thing about never being able to have a kid, too. Anyway, I changed the two cages that the babies are in, but not the adults and the two babies I’m keeping yet. It’s not as bad in here now.

I counted about $45 in change that I’ve been saving. I’d like to get a couple of new T-tubes and a couple of purple Snap-On wheels for the mice. I also want to pick up a few more bigger pairs of panties and a couple of pairs of bigger sweatpants. That’s all I really need for now till I’m bigger in a few months and need to get more.

So, now I’m just doing stomach and thigh exercises since those are my worst areas. Like I said, it’s not doing me a damn bit of good, but I’m doing them anyway.

Tom picked up a couple of new pairs of jeans for himself today and I think I’ll treat him to a new robe if he wants one. His is rather old and worn.

Later...

Just thought I’d take a break from reading. I can see myself delving into true crime stories for a while until I find more supernatural suspense stories. The parts that are boring, though, are the trials. Whenever a trial is written within a story, you already know the story anyway. So I skim through those parts. What surprised me, though, is that the library only has one little section of true crime stories. With all the crime in this world, you’d think there’d be stacks and stacks worth of this shit. I want to try to find books about cases I’m less familiar with. That way, I’m learning something new along the way. Or more things that are new, anyway, but it’s the big cases that get turned into books and movies. And we already know about people like Amy Fisher and Jeffrey Dahmer through news reports and people talking.

I went and looked and was wrong about having two more journals like this to print up. Yes, I do have two more like this, but then there’s another one that’s a little different. It’s got more pages and is the same width, but is a little shorter.

It’s too bad Andy got me two a while back and I told him not to buy me more cuz of having the equipment for journal-making. He said he found them on sale at Walmart, where I got 4 of the ones I’m printing, for just a couple bucks each, and wanted to get me about 20 of them. That’s really sweet of him, but they’re just not needed now.

Later...

White Feet’s out there now. Guess she went exploring. Although I do think he’s a he. I think Blackie’s a she, though.

I’m giving that hair removal system another try. I removed tit hairs and some from my lower belly, but I still think it’s a crock. We’ll see, though.

I also chatted with Andy for a while. As tired as he was, he’d have gladly spoken with me for hours, but after an hour we hung up. He understands. I’m just now beginning to be able to not think of smoking when on the phone, but I’m still not the phoneaholic I used to be and that he still is.

All in all, I’d say it took 3 months till it began getting easier. Now I don’t remember smoking in everything I do and I don’t miss it every other minute anymore.

I told Andy that if he felt he just had to get something for my last birthday, to just get some 70s CDs whenever in doubt of what to get me. It’s the thought that counts, but Andy likes to get presents, too, when he can.

Anyway, the wonderful thing about Andy is that so far, every day this year, he’s been in a great mood. I’m so glad for him. He had enough misery, anxiety and depression. He’s still without love, but he’s making good money at work and is happy and glad to be alive.

I told him that Marla said she’d be sending his birthday present. She sent a message as she does periodically at this time of year. She works in the school’s office with a boss from hell, as she says, and what with two kids, she doesn’t have much time for email.

Later...

Guess Tom will be home in just over an hour. That is unless they make him stay late. He’s hoping for a job within the bank that’ll give him more predictable hours. Yeah, but my schedule will still be unpredictable in most ways and we’ll still never know when and if we can spend much time together. The good thing about it, though, is that it makes our time together all the more special.

The cats are doing a better job lately of respecting my hospitality and they’re not banging on the door every second at night, but now it’s time for their last can of food for the day. White Feet must be hungry. Then I’ll probably just read till it’s bedtime.

A part of me is not looking forward to returning to writing journals by hand since I’ve found reading as a good way to fill in the time I’m not writing by hand since typing is so much faster. Well, it is for me, anyway. I can type almost as fast as I talk, and I talk kind of fast. Maybe I’ll think of some project for the last 5 I’ll be writing. I’d fill Andy’s with all kinds of gibberish for Bob, but the prison officials wouldn’t allow something like that sent in. Or they’d say it was OK, then return it to me saying it’s not OK after I took all that time writing it. I wish Nervous was still alive or some sucker like that that’d read it through. If Nervous was alive and still obsessed with me, he would, but the more stable people I know like Kim, probably wouldn’t have time to read it all and may even get bored with it.

Got a boring Bob letter today with the same old, same old. He still writes once in a while, and I can’t say I wish he’d write more, either.

Speaking of reading, I still have to resume the proofreading of my journals. I’ve got about 30 left to go.

In my letter to Larry, I told him something I’d been contemplating telling him. I finally said fuck it, if he’s got a problem with what I told him, tough shit. I just wanted to spare him any possible surprises in the future. So, I told him that I respect his relationship with Ronnie G, wouldn’t want to change that, and would’ve maybe kept in touch with him throughout the years if he could’ve let the past be in the past, but since he hasn’t been able to leave the past in the past and chooses to ignore me, he’s gonna have to do so in all aspects of my life. Meaning, I know I can’t force him to associate with me, but he can’t be at mom or dad’s funerals, cuz if I’m there, I do intend to physically remove him, I told him. I also told him that as far as I’m concerned, none of the problems I’ve had with Ronnie in the past, have a damn thing to do with us. Not unless he wants to make it have anything to do with us. I’m sure he’ll take it in an understanding way, but like I said, if he doesn’t, that’s his choice. We all have to do what we have to do.

Tom got a big piece of cardboard that he says will cut easily. This is what we’re gonna hopefully use to make journal covers. I prefer hardcovers, but if it turns out that making hardcovers is that much of a bitch, then I’ll just use soft covers.

Later...

I explored some more Microsoft spreadsheets, databases, templates, etc., and I printed out one of their ready-laid-out floral envelopes.

Did lots of reading, too.

Maybe I’ll send Paula a letter for the hell of it since it’s been a while. What the hell’s that girl’s problem? Why’s it so hard to get in touch with me? Well, I always did say Paula was a ditz for a reason.

Shelly still continues to choose to have no contact with me. For all I know, she could’ve forgotten and lost anything with my name and number on it, but this is doubtful. Shelly’s not like Paula. She does have a brain in her head. I also don’t really think that she chooses to not contact me cuz of the past. I think it’s more personal. I think there’s something about me personally that bugs her.

Still nothing from Anne or Harry, either, but after hearing from them that one time after the first letter I sent since being out here, I kind of figured deep down that would be it. No pictures or any more letters from there on out, but I’m glad I sent them the pictures of Tom and I that I scanned. Of course, the pictures I scanned for them were before I got so big.

I’ve been doing stomach exercises regularly for over a week now and by now I should begin to notice a slight difference, but I don’t. See I’m telling you, and I vibe it strongly, God doesn’t want me to lose weight. Or to tone up for that matter. Now that I’m not running around asking, “How the hell am I ever gonna get off these damn cigarettes?” anymore, he just has to make sure I have a replacement and am now running around asking, “How the fuck am I ever gonna lose weight?” Well, I ain’t giving him the satisfaction no more.

Later...

We had our bi-weekly, but this time weekly fun in bed. I faked an orgasm and he pulled out saying that’s just his liking variety, but I’m pretty sure he just couldn’t get into it, either. We love each other dearly, but the sex has just gotten rather old. If there’s anything that is normal about our sex, though, it’s that that’s a common thing for couples who’ve been together longer than a year. It still sounds so funny coming from me. I mean, I just never thought I’d be able to say I’ve been with someone for nearly 5 years. It’s a good feeling, though. Especially when it’s with someone you love so very much that you’ve been with despite the suspicions on one or two subjects I’ve had about him, it’s been a great relationship and I believe we’ll be together forever. Our number one goal in life is the same and that is to be together forever.

For the last two months or so, it seems my sexual drive has lowered itself, but I can’t say it’s worth complaining about. Cuz of our busyness and schedules, we cannot have sex regularly. And also, it helps curb the baby desires for some strange reason.

My period is doing some strange things again, although not as strange as last month. Again, there’s no way I could be pregnant, but does this have anything to do with why I’m so fat? I was fat in my late teens due to not getting periods cuz of that Navane garbage I was on. I’m not spotting like last month, but it’s off to a very, very slow start. It’s still not normal. I should have a full flow by now and I know I’ll get one without a doubt in my mind, but still, I should either have a period or not have a period. Not kind of or intermittently, so to speak.

The freeloaders were quiet all weekend, so I won’t be stirring up any late-night noise, although one of these days, I may just stoop myself as low as they are and do shit without a reason, but it’s hard. See, I have a conscience and I’d personally feel guilty about bothering someone that either never did shit to me, or that has been quiet lately. So, I put Tom’s basketball back in his closet for now. The damn thing’s so heavy, too. No wonder they’re so loud and obnoxious sounding.

Tom got a new pedal for his car racing games on the computer, so he’s happy. It’s nice to see him on the computer more than at the TV.

I weighed myself both before and after having a beef patty. I was a pound heavier after having the patty. I really am running on no metabolism here and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to up it. I could maybe, just maybe, if I jogged in place or something like that for 5 hours every day, but that’s not gonna happen, so this is just yet another bodily function I have no control over, just like with the sterility, that I have to just learn to accept and live with. It’s hard, though. It really is hard at times to deal with.

Great news! But first - just as I vibed, we won’t be getting rid of the mice till Tuesday and we may not be getting rid of all of them, either. That girl Shayla, said 32 mice are too many for her, but if worse came to worse, she’d take them. I think this other store that Tom was on the outskirts of the city will take about 20 of them, but Tom said he felt they may take them all.

Tom got an all-black guinea pig out near Scottsdale today! It’s a male and the lady at the store said he was 12 weeks old, but he seems more like 6 weeks to me. Anyway, I guess he was born sometime at the end of ‘97. He’s so adorable, but here’s something new that I’ve never seen or heard of done on GPs before. Well, he has an earring on one ear. It’s a little silver staple-like thing, similar to a leg band that a bird would wear. Because of his jet-black, velvety fur, which is softer than any other GPs I ever felt, I’ve been calling him Velvet. He’s really gung-ho on burying himself in my hair, this one, and is eating already, but is still too timid for the usual chattering they do when you take them out and pat them. When I say that he’s eating already, I mean that they usually don’t eat much on their first day or two in a new home. At first, Tom thought of Lightening as a possible name for him cuz he’s so fast and curious with the way he looks all around him, but before settling on Velvet, I thought to myself, Well, I’m not gonna call him the N pig, and giggled to myself. Andy, by the way, thought the name I addressed their letter to, was hilarious as all hell. He too, calls people certain names just to vent, but we know there are just as many white assholes and if these sick fucks were white, I’d call them some other names to vent my anger. This is why, though, these freeloaders have so many friends. Cuz most people are assholes, therefore, you’d fit in just fine with most people if you were one, too. But people like Tom and I choose not to have so many friends, cuz we don’t care for most people’s ways. I don’t need to associate with these liars, thieves, head players, etc.

My hope/guess that they’d back off after freaking out on me last weekend has been the case so far. I heard his car door, so I know he came and went the usual 4 to 6 times, but no music or ball games. Even the door slamming’s been way, way better. They used to slam their doors much harder and many times in a row, too.

I wonder where the fuck this dude goes every weekend so many times. Does he ever just stay in all day ever? He probably goes off to see his phony guy pals.

Still no dog over there and I’ll continue to enjoy every minute that there isn’t, cuz it’s just a matter of time now.

Speaking of animals, that bitch of a cat is pregnant again, as figured. Tom thinks she’ll take off and have them elsewhere so that these two kittens don’t kill them if either of them is male. It’s a male cat’s instinct, for reasons I can’t comprehend, to kill kittens. I think she will have them here and that if White Feet or Blackie are males, they won’t kill them. I think they’re too tame now to do that, instinct or not, but God will do what he feels is best. If he wants me to take care of them, he’ll make sure they live and are here in our yard. However, if they were born here and not killed by White Feet or Blackie, I think I’d be tempted to break their little necks myself. We don’t need no cat farm out there. The 3 cats we have are more than enough, on top of birds, mice, a rabbit, and a GP.

Tom got a new word processor, but as of yet, I’m not impressed with it. So for now, I’ll keep using the one I’ve been using.

We made a really neat spreadsheet of all the animals. The spreadsheet consisted of their description, names, DOB, and type, but we pretty much had to guess on some of the DOBs.

Later...

The oldest babies are now officially sexually active. I knew that the moment I heard screeching sounds. The ladies obviously don’t like to screw, cuz they run and squeak like hell when the males go to jump them.

My period’s beginning and so far seems to be more normal than the last one was.

Well, that dreaded weekend has arrived. I’m gonna hope that cuz they just took a fit last weekend and cuz they don’t want to be reminded that I exist as I think they know they will be if they act up, they’ll give me a break this weekend, but we’ll see.

The fact that I can never have a kid and that I can’t lose weight still bothers me here and there. I’m now enjoying the last of the 120s, cuz I know that it’s just a matter of time before the 120s are a thing of the past. Hell, I’ll wish to hell I was 127! Especially when I’m something like 145.

Why is God doing this to me? Why won’t he let exercising take to me? It’s helped my back to feel better, but it hasn’t made me one bit firmer or any smaller. He just won’t let it work for me. Instead, I’m wasting my time and going against his plans for me, but why has he got it in his plans for me to be heavy? What’s the point? Is it to pay for all the years I was thin? And why is it that I have to pay for any good thing I get in this life? Can’t he just give me something without slapping a price on it? Without expecting something in return?

Meanwhile, I just try to tell myself he knows best and that it’s for a good reason; not all necessarily a punishment or compensation. It helps to ease my fears about his power and his ways.

Tom once told me that he’s so absent-minded that he sometimes forgets to do the things he wants to do. In other words, what he’s trying to say is, don’t mind him if he “forgets” to do something regarding the fact that we can’t have a child.

He’s already putting off and making excuses, saying it’s an all-day thing to get us set up with new doctors. True or not, if it’s worth it to him, he’ll do it. He’ll find the time for it.

Given the freak chance that there’s a procedure available that they could do to impregnate me, and given the one in a million chance that God let it stay there for 9 months, you’re talking at least two years. So, there’s no use in worrying if we should wait till we move to have a kid if God decided we should have that choice, cuz that’d be about how long all the testing and procedures would take.

As for my weight, in the meantime, that just keeps on going up slowly but surely, I have no logical explanation for it other than that it’s God’s will. I’m not eating like a pig and I am exercising, so my metabolism shouldn’t be as slow as it apparently is unless some higher power is manipulating it. I don’t have symptoms of a whacked-out thyroid, which is about the only medical cause for weight gain that I can think of.

And as much as I’d be thrilled to have a kid yesterday and know that we could obtain one the natural way, I agree with Tom when he said he hoped I wasn’t pregnant. If the new research is correct and not all hype, then the few cigarettes I had could cause it to have asthma. They’re saying that smoking early on in pregnancy causes asthma.

Well, even though my last period was screwy in the way that I was spotting for 3 days prior to a slow buildup to somewhat of a full flow, it was still enough to take a baby out. It’d be too much for it to survive, cuz the more you bleed, the less likely it is to be able to hang on as the currents of blood flush it out.

If I have another screwy period, then maybe there’s something else going on like with my hormones. That’s something God would screw with, too. Yeah, leave it to him to mess with my hormones, something that’s important in reproducing.

On the other hand, my abnormality isn’t so abnormal in a sense. Whenever there’s a family of more than two kids, there’s always one that can’t have kids. Or that won’t have kids, like Andy.

Later...

Right now, trying to read isn’t very easy. I’m stressed out and having trouble concentrating, cuz I know that any second, some scum-sucking, rude, selfish, lonely asshole, could blast by and distract me.

I think our little filthy black beast is in for the night, though. I think I heard a door that sounded within the carport and it is unlikely for them to have company on a Friday night. I wish this weather, as dreary as it is, would continue on throughout the weekend, but as is the case 99 out of 100 weekends, the weather’s gonna be great. It’s just that while they don’t like it as much when it’s not hot, they hate it even more when it’s rainy out. At least there’s no dog over there cuz if there was one over there right now, I’d be forced to listen to it right now for another hour or two. After having to listen to a dog over there with this sick fuck twice, there isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thankful that there’s no dog over there. I don’t take it for granted.

Weekends, however, are notorious for loud stereos zinging by.

So, even though 3 hours of basketball is more likely in the summer (and this was also to bait me to see if they could catch me doing something for their rude noise, on top of bugging me) God still may send some other kid that doesn’t even know them to play ball for a while and they won’t run out and shoo them away, either.

Well, maybe they’ll leave me the fuck alone this weekend, seeing how they just let me have 3 hours of being made to acknowledge them and seeing how I didn’t do anything but believe me, I kill them with my bare fists every day in my mind.

Another reason that keeps them together longer than most couples, is how he’s so weak, insecure, and young. She’s a middle-aged bitch, and while she doesn’t have her shit anymore together than he does, he needs her to hold his hand and she needs someone to dominate. I know people well enough to be able to see this. I could tell from day one, and I think I made reference to this in these journals, that she was a little dominatrix of a bitch, while he was her phony little boy toy who loves every minute of her having him wrapped around her finger. Some people like that and they like to feel “owned” and bossed around. He probably couldn’t break free of her so easily if he wanted to. It’s more or less one of those addictive relationships. And as for her, he’s an object to dominate, use, and order around. He’s her sex, he’s her rides at times, he’s extra dough, he’s someone to dictate what to do so she can feel in control.

Now here’s a positive compensation for his being in the picture for this winter, and that’s that I haven’t had to run a fan constantly in the back room, cuz of the two guard dogs. At this time of year, they’re usually pretty out of control and barking up a vicious storm, but this winter has been the first winter I’ve been here where the situation wasn’t too bad.

Later...

I took a reading break, and now it’s time for a writing break. I’ve basically been bouncing back and forth between reading and writing today. The weather’s called for it. I mean, today’s the classic day for just lounging about, but so as not to feel too lazy, I’ve done some exercising in the midst of it.

Each of the 3 books I’ve got deals with cases of true crime.

The first one dealt with two teenage girls who were both raped, one was also killed, by two older teenage boys in a small town in Vermont.

The one I’m currently reading is about a woman so obsessed with this married guy, that she kills his wife. It’s one of those Betty Broderick fatal attraction stories.

The last one that I’ll read is about a woman stalked and raped twice by the same guy, and of the system that just doesn’t give a damn about shit like that.

These freeloaders’ reaction is so typical too, in their suspecting I bottled their carport, etc. Got to go run to the courts and expect them to play mommy and daddy. What is it with people and thinking that the courts can solve their problems with people? I just don’t get it. I know that if I have a problem with someone personally, then they are the ones to deal with. I believe in confronting the source directly and not having someone do it for me.

OK, enough about the naughty freeloaders for now. Back to my reading.

Later...

I’m heating up a cup of tea from the pot of tea that I made earlier, then it’s back to my reading. God! I couldn’t even read this much on Oswego St.

In case I never described the Mama Bitch and her kitties, the bitch is gray and white, White Feet’s black and white, and Blackie’s black.

I decided to keep two of the babies I liked that fortunately turned out to be females. One’s got a splotch of white on her back, so I call her Star. The other has a partially formed patch over one eye and I call her Baby Patch. So, that’s 10 mice. Ziggy, Shy, Spot, Tanner, Star, Patch, Baby Patch, Bandit, and the two Cocoas that are all brown and indistinguishable from one another.

Later...

And now I’ve gained another pound. Why? Why? Why? I’ve been exercising every day just about and haven’t been eating a pile of junk food or poorly, so what the fuck’s going on? Well, obviously there’s nothing I can do about it and I certainly can’t be pregnant what with pre-cramps that I’ve got. No problem with God answering my prayers that I not be pregnant at this time due to the cigarettes I had. No problem whatsoever. In fact, I should know better than to pray for something like that. Like it was even necessary for me to pray for something like that?! I don’t think so! I wish there really was something wrong with me that’s causing all this weight gain, cuz that’d be simpler, and then perhaps I could do something about it, but I know better. There’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing I can do about this, and I just have to live with it.

I got a letter from Kim today. She’s not doing too well. Her uncle died and she’s been laid off. She’s still alone, too, the poor girl.

All's well and good today as of yet. No freeloader shit, or anything else, although I can't say for sure how the weekend will be. I'm sure they'll do something to bother me.

Steven's flown over for a visit and Tom got to see him this morning after work.

Now here’s something I never do - fall asleep for 7 hours after only being up for 8 hours. I guess Tom’s theory for it must be right. I wasn’t fully over my cold like I had thought and had been doing a lot. Yeah, I was doing a lot, and that included a rigorous half-hour workout.

Later...

I slept again from 3 AM - 8 AM. Now I’m frying up some chicken and then I’ll work out.

The freeloader wasn’t a problem yesterday that I know of, so maybe, just maybe, they do hear me when I bang late at night and are like OK, OK. We want our peace and sleep so we’ll shut up for a while. I don’t know. We’ll just have to see what happens, but it’s a rather depressing thought to know I’m stuck with them a few feet away from me for two more years. Like a fly buzzing around my head that I just can’t get rid of. That’ll total 4 years of having the stress of these sick fucks on me, except for that time he took off for about half a year and only visited weekly or biweekly. I should’ve known, too, that he’d be back. I’ll tell you one thing for sure, and that’s that I won’t be using headphones all the time anymore, whether they can hear it or not. One thing I learned about Arizona is - don’t give a fuck about your neighbors, cuz they won’t give a fuck about you.

Later...

OK, I just ate, but am gonna wait a little bit before working out. I don’t want an upset stomach.

I just gave my 3 cats some chicken. Fortunately, though, Mama Bitch, as I now call her, doesn’t hang out there as much as the kittens. I’m feeding them again for two reasons. One is that they just won’t go away, and the other is cuz I don’t think it was just chance that sent them to me. I think God sent them to me cuz he knew I could handle it and cuz he wanted me to take care of them.

I’m going to have to make a very serious personal decision a couple of weeks from now. I’m really tired of how I keep outgrowing my clothes every few months and want to put a stop to this weight gain, even if I can’t lose weight. If another couple of weeks of having meat or poultry every day and exercising doesn’t produce results, I’m then gonna have to decide whether or not I just want to keep on living with it, enter a weight loss program, or go back to smoking. I just know that in the end, I’m gonna have to decide if I want to breathe more or be thin more. Smoking may be something I’ll have to get used to again and cause me to wheeze again and have to take inhalers regularly, and be a bit costly, but I do miss the vice; the act of smoking. And if I’m just gonna be fat and miss them, maybe I ought to just smoke and be thin. I miss being thin and the costs kind of come out the same if you add up the costs of the new clothes I have to buy from the weight gain. Or maybe it’ll stop any further weight gain. I just know that God’s not gonna let me have my cake and eat it too. It’s one or the other. Either I must be heavy, or I must wheeze away. Maybe I should smoke a few months here and there, who knows? At least now I know I can quit. As long as I have Tom’s support, the Nicorette gum for 12 weeks, and regular gum in between, I can do it. Then when the pounds add up again, I can smoke again.

Later...

I had Tom get me a pack of smokes. Once again, I feel a bit nauseous and there’s a foul taste in my mouth. I wonder how I did these things for so long and why I felt so compelled to get started and stick it out long enough to get used to these things in the first place. Guess living with my mother and psycho foster parents and funny farms was really tough, but nonetheless, it was I who put the damn things to my lips. My first relapse taught me it was better to miss them than to smoke. This one’s taught me to just take the fat. I don’t think I can get back into these things no matter how hard I try. So I just have to accept the fact that just like I can’t have everything I want in life, it’s either smoke and choke or be fat. I also feel kind of guilty and like I’m letting Tom down and throwing away all that hard work. After all, it was just beginning to get easier. I wasn’t missing my cigarettes nearly as much and when I did, it was OK. I could deal with it.

So, I’ll keep on exercising and eating at least one good meal a day as Tom and I agreed, then when I get to the 140 pounds I know I’ll get to, I’ll decide then if I just want to live with it, or if I should see a doctor and check out a weight loss program. I just don’t see what they can do for me that I can’t do for myself or that I haven’t already done. I think that if it were that easy and even possible to lose weight, your average person wouldn’t be overweight like they are. Maybe being fat isn’t the end of the world as long as I make sure I get new clothes every 3 months and be punctual about it so I don’t have to deal with the frustration of clothes that don’t fit for longer periods of time like I have been. I’ve been putting off getting new clothes and that’s not good. But like I said, perhaps being big is a small price to pay in order to be able to breathe, and new clothes, even every few months, can’t add up to the cost of cigarettes if I just get a few cheap things. I’m now a non-smoker, like it or not. Something I only dreamed of being for years, so yes, God does answer some of my dreams and you know what? It’s OK if he doesn’t answer my kid dream. I told Tom that if he said the word, I’d go to a doctor with him and I still would if it’s what he wants and if we can fit it into our lives, but as long as I have my husband and the ability to breathe and not have to live in fear of bad asthma attacks, I’ll be OK with no child. We’re going to be busy with my teeth, with moving, with family, and more. Also, if I took up smoking again, I couldn’t hide it from Andy, my folks, and Lisa forever. I could live with Andy and my dad getting on my ass about it, but it’d be much harder for me to live with Lisa knowing about it. We promised each other not to smoke and I can’t say for sure if she’s not smoking or ever will if she really isn’t, but I know how useless it is to tell a child not to smoke, while you’re sitting there puffing away. I was once that child being told that while her parents smoked. And her big sister. And her big brother.

I will also not touch a drop of alcohol again after finishing the 4 wine coolers I’ve got. There’s no reason to be drinking. I don’t need no substitutes no more. Just my gum.

I’ll ask Tom to please not mention my relapse to anyone, either. He can tell his side of the family whatever he wants, but I’m talking about Andy and the family on my side. There’s no need to get them all upset over a few smokes.

Later...

Apparently, the freeloader isn’t coming in for lunch these days and that’s just fine with me. However, it came and went at 10:30. There was no music, but I heard the kid cry. I still wonder why his hours are so weird. There is a pattern and a schedule, but there’s not. Anyway, we’ll just have to see how the fuck comes in at the end of the day.

I guess I’ll go read now and then maybe listen to some music. Mine, that is.

Later...

I managed to bind and close the previous book up, but I did do it a bit backward. I was supposed to load the paper onto the wire first, then attach it to the binder, but instead, I attached it to the binder, then loaded the paper. Oh well. It’s no biggie. I’ll just know better for the next 3 journals.

I’m gonna change colors every day in this book. I’ll use black, magenta, blue, dark cyan, red, dark green, dark red, and purple

Sounds like the freeloader’s not doing music, but is back to his door-slamming routine. Well, since they obviously are so adamant about my knowing they exist, I’ll take doors over music. At least he’s in for the night, cuz that was definitely an inside-the-carport slam.