I got up at 3 AM and Tom was already up. By 5:00 I was all showered and commented on how I wouldn’t stink when we got together. Then he said it’d be a while. Yeah, I’m sure you’re in no hurry for it, Tom, and that you’re gonna wait till the end of your day when your energy’s dwindling. He’s still such a scaredy-cat subconsciously! I’m not in the mood for it, as usual, since it’s nothing new and exciting, but at least it shouldn’t hurt. I’ve been using a cream for the irritation and I should be all broken into by now. Of course, something will come up within the next few weeks to keep us from having sex once a week, and then I’ll be faced with the decision of having to start all over again and go through all that pain again. Each time I have to start over, the harder it gets. I mean, the more reluctant I am to do so. If I could, I’d have sex once every 2-4 weeks. That’d give it time to build up for me since having it once a week or more can be too much and take the fun out of it, but my crotch just can’t take that.

Tom’s back to thinking I’m OK. I asked him how he could go from agreeing that something could be wrong with me, to the same old he’s been telling for years; I’m fine. He said those two statements aren’t necessarily contradictory. He said something could’ve been wrong for a while. Oh, so my body magically fixed itself? I don’t think so! Thank God that’s not how it works.

Later...

I’m doing the usual weekend stuff now - laundry.

Now this car that Marjorie threw at us has yet another new problem. Tom said there was water all over the floor of the passenger seat that he thinks is leaking from the AC. That’s nice.

I asked Tom what was going on with the $10,000 his ma was supposed to give us so we could avoid taxes. He said nothing was going on. That there was the final straw and I was just about as fed up as could be with his user of a mother.

”We help her move, but she won’t help us move?” I asked him.

He said he not only wants us to do things for ourselves, but he hasn’t told his ma we’re planning a move. I asked why, and he said it was because he doesn’t want to upset her and cause her to believe he’ll never see her again. Oh, poor, poor, Marge. That’s OK, though. We will move with or without her help, and yeah, we can do without her help. The only time that’s scary to think - what if she wasn’t around? - was when they turned our electricity off. Perhaps I’m being too harsh on her. We all have our flaws, after all, and compared to your average human being, she’s still pretty flawless.

When Tom told me yesterday there was a message from Andy, I asked myself what he could have to tell me about God this time, and sure enough, the message was all about how God’s such a miracle for him and how he’s oh so wonderful and all that shit. He said he was bawling his eyes out to God, begging him for the love he’ll never have since I know that if God’s ignored him this late in life, he always will. Then he said he awoke to find two roses on his car the next day from what he believes is a secret admirer. He said he doesn’t know who it is and that they left no note. As I told Andy in my reply message to him, that’s nice about the roses, but why doesn’t he meet a guy, fall in love with him, establish a relationship with him, then praise God and how wonderful he is to him? He’s thanking God a little too prematurely and giving him way too much credit. Until his life changes drastically for the better, and until he himself puts more effort into changing for the better, he shouldn’t be praising anyone. Now I’m not saying Andy’s a terrible person with the most non-productive life in the world. I’ve seen lazy, hopeless losers who make Andy seem like a model employee with a model life, but you know what I mean.

Marla sent me a joke that wasn’t too funny, but it was nice of her to do so anyway. I just sent her a few jokes right before I got hers, so I guess she felt she had to return the favor.

I saw Dr. Brown yesterday. Her nurse, who saw me first, used the peak flow monitor on me and said it was within normal range. The doctor, though, apparently didn’t like what she heard when she listened to my lungs. She said she could hear the tightness in my voice, too. How you sound/feel is more important than what a peak flow monitor says. She gave me a 5-day, low dosage of Prednisone, an anti-inflammatory. This stuff in the past would make me all sore and watery, so hopefully it won’t bother me now. She said to come back in next week if I’m not better. She agreed with my upping the Vanceril dosage which does seem to be helping.

There were a few more people in the waiting room this time around, including a couple of semi-obnoxious kids. One could easily be heard yelling from inside where the exam rooms were. Aside from the obvious reasons I don’t want a kid...they’re too costly, time-consuming, nothing I could handle, and too damn loud. There’s nothing more obnoxious and fraying on the nerves than the loud, shrilly sound of a child’s voice.

Before seeing the doctor, Tom called about Giselle. They said I should’ve gotten her by now (no shit!), they’re shipping another one, and to call if she doesn’t come by the 27th (Tom thinks she’ll get here on the 24th or 25th), but if this one doesn’t come, I’m either gonna quit doing business with them altogether, or find an alternative way to receive packages. Tom thinks the package was damaged and is on its way back to them, but I think the mailman gave it to someone else. It’s also possible that it came last Saturday before the freeloaders woke me up and that someone from over there ran over and swiped it. There had to have been a dozen or so people over there and I can easily see them egging each other on to who would swipe the box first. My number one guess, though, is that the mailman gave it to someone else. Once we move we’ll have a PO box or we’ll use UPS. These are more reliable, although UPS has a way of roughing up packages. They broke several pieces of my stuff when Dureen and Art shipped my shit out to me when I moved out here. It’d be pretty funny if we ended up getting this doll after all, and the one we ordered yesterday, and ended up with two Giselle’s. That’s not gonna happen, though. I think there’s a chance we’ll probably get just the doll we ordered yesterday.

Yesterday, we stopped at a different used bookstore that was twice as big as the one I had been going to. It had a lot of the kinds of books I like and I was surprised to find that they only had two Ruby Jean Jensen books. The good part of that, though, was that they had two books of hers I never read, so I was pleased to find them. I began reading The Lake.

I got 10 books for $20. I didn’t bring in my last batch of books that I got at the other place, but I will. They too, do credit. It’s half off the cover price of any book, normally, and then you get half off books you bought and bring back for credit. So if you pay $2 for a book, then bring it back, that’s a buck’s worth of credit you get towards your next purchase. Some of the books I got are by authors I’ve read other books by, and some are people I’ve never heard of.

We went to Walgreens after the doctor’s and browsed the store until my prescriptions were filled. I got another plug-in for the music room. I got a new scent too, of strawberries and crème, but it’s way too subtle. I don’t think I’ll get the raspberry scent then, and not the potpourri either, since that’s too perfume-like, but I would like to try the vanilla, the natural springs, and the tender breeze some time. We got a vanilla air freshener for the car. You dangle it from the mirror. I also put one in the bathroom.

Got a couple of puzzles, and was surprised to find this store had two tiny porcelain dolls. They must’ve been 8”. They were in a sitting position and they each had the same face and boring short hair. One had an ugly dress, one had an OK dress. They were only $8, too, a pretty good deal. Talk about phony-looking hands, though!

I was just looking out the side window to see if I could see anything next door when I saw something blue in their living room window. Then I realized it was the reflection of their recycle bin.

There are no bad vibes in the air, but if I get a bass treatment again like I got last weekend, those mother-fuckers are dead. Case closed. Of course, it’s still early for them. They don’t come alive till after noon, usually. Also, I don’t know if they heard from the city regarding my complaint yet. I would think so, though. I hope so.

Later...

Damn! How many people live across the street? How many kids? Do all these people live there, or is it just 2-3 people with lots of visitors? Tom thinks there’s a couple living over there in their late 20s with one small kid that’s too young to be let out (that would explain why it’s so quiet), and that they have other kids come to visit on weekends. We’ve seen a 3-year-old, a 5-year-old, and a teenager. Of course, these are approximate age guesses. Tom thinks the guy might actually be in his 30s and that these other kids that come to visit on weekends may be from a previous marriage. I, on the other hand, think differently. I think the couple is between 16-20 and that the kids that come to visit are nieces or kids of friends that they babysit. The 5-year-old could be the guy’s.

They’re so weird, though. They water their front yard constantly, yet they never mow it. It’s like they’re obsessed with growing weeds. Tom says it’s probably the first house they ever had. Obviously.

Tom sanded the bedroom door so it closes without much trouble.

Andy, who’s been a pest by leaving messages every day, left two, possibly three messages today. However, I think it was the freeloaders responding to the city complaint. That’s the feeling I got, but I asked Andy about it, and if it was him playing a joke on me, hopefully he’ll admit it. Meanwhile, I told him that just in case it was the freeloaders, I activated the anonymous call reject. The call came right before Andy left two long messages. All they did was sigh for a second, then hang up.

Andy’s messages were all about how wonderful God is, as usual. He said he’s just so thankful for any little thing that God sends his way that’s good. I can understand that. Most of us always appreciated good things. I know I don’t take them for granted myself. Then he asked me about my chat online with Marla, which he said I didn’t leave him a clear message about. Yes, I did. But thanks to his wonderful friends like Laura, I’m sure she erased it. He said she’s allowed access to the voicemail till April. Then he’ll be changing his code. The message I left was about Marla’s not agreeing (along with myself) with his type of friends, including Laura, so that’s one she’d certainly see fit to erase.

Later...

Tom’s out making the opening of Velvet’s wooden burrow bigger since he’s such a huge pig.

Meanwhile, guess which mouse died? Not Cocoa with the tumor, but Star. We noticed yesterday when I was changing their cages that she didn’t look well. She sure went fast for a rodent. Thank God, though.

Ashley was acting pretty weird just a minute ago. It looked like she was having a nightmare or a minor epileptic fit. Then she started cleaning herself furiously. She seems fine now, though.

Later...

Our lovely black bitch is doing just what I figured she’d do so far and that’s that she’s keeping it really low-key. Haven’t heard/seen a thing. She knows she’s been bad. She’s probably doing everything she can to make up for last weekend’s shit. She must really feel she’s walking on eggshells around me now and worry that one more complaint will get her out of here. I hope so, and if this really is the case, I should really be covered till we move. She may not even want to risk having company at all this weekend, no matter how quiet they are. I got the immediate feeling that that was the freeloaders calling and not Andy. Andy wouldn’t bother leaving a message, and if he did, it’d be more original than a sigh-type sound. I also told him he didn’t have to call me back unless it was him and I haven’t heard from him. So in other words, I’m almost positive the call was freeloader-related. I’m glad I got this call too, cuz it confirms my gut feeling about them hearing about my complaint. I think they heard about it at the end of last week. Just when they think they can get away with pulling their shit on me, I complain. Well, like I said, now that she’s been scolded a third time, she should be afraid to even breathe around here and I sure do hope so!

Red Lobster called asking if Andy, who’s scheduled to come in at 6:00, could come in an hour earlier. Does Andy know they think he lives at this number? I’ve told him that they’ve called here before on days he was either late or didn’t show up, but I guess his pot brain cells just spit the information right out of his head. I think the ditz accidentally wrote our number down on his application as his home phone number as well as a reference number.

The Lake is too descriptive and a little predictable, but it’s good anyhow.

We screwed earlier, and he did just what I figured he’d do, too. I had no irritation at all. That’s all gone. However, I was kind of dry. I guess I’m a normal woman in that area since that’s common at this age. We dry up with age. Anyway, he wouldn’t go on top, even though I told him he could if he wanted to. He conveniently complained that his knee just suddenly started hurting so he had to stop before going on top. Coincidental timing, huh? Now, why couldn’t he just say he didn’t feel like going any further? It would’ve been fine with me. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Maybe the fact that I forgot the KY nerved him up. KY sort of acts as a contraceptive cuz sperm can’t swim through it well.

Later...

In a half-hour, it’ll be exactly one week since the fuckers woke me up. I’m awake, I’m dressed, I’m ready for you motherfuckers if you want to fuck with me this weekend! You just dare fuck with me now, you sick, scummy, pieces of trash!