Yesterday Tom turned 42. It’s hard to believe that in just 8 years he’ll be 50. If there’s one good thing about his being older, it’s that if the place we move to does end up growing over the years, we can move to Sun City in just 13 years.

The thing that really pissed me off was that Tom’s mom didn’t even care to send him a birthday card this year like she always used to. There’s always the chance it was misdelivered or will be delayed, but if not, that just made the woman go even lower in my mind. First she uses him, steals our time and money, then she doesn’t even send him a birthday card!

For his birthday, I made Tom a disk of a screen saver I made for him with different sayings on different backgrounds.

Before I get into our land hunt - Minnie’s trying to get in touch again. Also, and to my utter amazement, I never did hear from Andy this weekend and no pants showed up at my door. I left him a message a little while ago asking what the scoop was with that. Maybe he took care of his own damn pants for a change. Or got too fat for them, button or no button.

Next door was quiet all weekend. As quiet as they usually are during the week. But will it stay this way? I wonder about July 4th. Well, if it doesn’t stay quiet, we’ll deal with it then.

I went out to put my mail out and saw all their van windows open. This may not be New York City, Boston, or Springfield, but that is so stupid!

Later...

OK, on with yesterday’s outing. We left at 6 AM and didn’t return till 1 PM.

We didn’t go to Palm Harbor’s place in Apache Junction as we originally planned, but that’s to be our next step to find out what we qualify for. Then, we go out with a realtor to more property.

We drove out to Maricopa which is nestled by the Ak-chin Indian reservation and the Gila River Indian reservation. They also have Hopi, Navajo, Mojave, Apache, and more throughout the state. In fact, most of Arizona is owned by the government (national parks or forests) or the Indians. They have a lot of ancient Indian ruins around the state too, that I want to check out some time.

We looked at 3-acre lots. Some had manufactured houses on them, some were empty. I was surprised to see how close the houses were, although Tom didn’t think they were too close at all. To me, they looked two houses apart. From us to the collie’s house. He said he didn’t think so. He felt they looked 10 houses apart, and that distance can fool you if there’s nothing in between houses. He said we wouldn’t hear neighbors in our house. Outside - maybe. The 3-acre lots were more expensive but were rigged with utilities and water that was piped into the houses just like they are here in the city. We liked the more secluded, private, bigger lots, that are cheaper, but the catch is that they aren’t rigged for phone, electricity, or water.

I was surprised to see how many kids lived there (I still plan not to have a kid) and the school buses for summer school that went by. They have mail services, but the mail doesn’t come into your house through a slot. You have mailboxes at the edge of your property. I don’t know if UPS goes out there or not, but I’d think so. Maybe the mail service will be better out there and we won’t need a PO Box.

The owners of the rental are here now. When are they gonna sell or re-rent the place?

Anyway, the secluded lots were more private because their natural desert landscape was untouched. The sage bushes and Palo Verde trees are boring looking compared to saguaros, prickly pears, and ocotillos, but they do shield you from other houses. The houses that were on the smaller lots had originally been farmland, so all the sage and cactuses were cleared out. In that area, though, embedded in the base of Papago Butte Mountain, was a house for sale that we might consider checking into. It’d be perfect as far as utilities and water go, and the payments would be cheaper than this house, but the house might be a dump. It’s a manufactured house, but it’s about 20 years old. I’d prefer something new. It’s listed as a 3-bedroom 2½ bath with an addition that could make it a 4-bedroom house, but the big question is - is it quiet being elevated above other houses and with neighbors on either side, that again, seem so close? Don’t get me wrong. They’re not 3 feet away, but I still don’t see how a pack of screaming kids couldn’t be heard from the next house over (not that a 3-acre lot wouldn’t suit us. It’d sure beat 3 feet and be much quieter) Also, being higher, that enables the surrounding houses a straight shot at the house with their noise. Lastly, we were wondering how you’d put a pool in with it being on an incline like that. We may have to put it in front. At least we wouldn’t have to worry about anything noisy coming in behind us being nestled right against the bass of the mountain.

So, now that we saw the area, measured distances, checked out acreage, and looked over landscapes, we checked off all the appealing ads in those papers that the realtor sent so we can check those out, and the mountain house, too. We got a kick out of some of the ads that said: secluded with good neighbors. If you’re so secluded, then how do you know what your neighbors are like? And when they say “good neighbors” do they mean quiet neighbors or neighbors that are decent people?

Some of the mountains are prettier than others. I like the rockier mountains, rather than the ones that look like huge piles of dirt.

Tom asked if I’d be nervous with him gone since some people worry about being all alone with homicidal maniacs on the loose. Homicidal maniacs can be anywhere, but I think there are more of those in cities. Also, and as I told him, if it’s my time to go, so be it. If I’m destined to ever be shot, run over, or stricken with a killer disease, then there’s nothing I can do to stop that. Meanwhile, I can’t imagine my being nervous, and to this day I regret bothering the police to check out the sounds I heard when I first came to this house. I should’ve been a big girl and checked it out myself, just like I do from time to time, and that’s what I’ll do if I hear anything strange no matter where we live. If it’s our house, it’s our problem and our responsibility to deal with anything suspicious or that has our curiosity peaked. Anyway, a homicidal maniac can throw itself into anyone’s house anywhere, but if one does decide to pick our house, it damn well better come armed or with lots of pals, cuz any unarmed cock or two that comes to my door is gonna be walking straight into a death trap. I’ll kill it, bury it, and not even bother to call the cops. Let its family wonder whatever the hell became of it.

Anyway, noise is more important an issue to me than views or privacy. People can look as long as they don’t bother us. If I hear soft sounds off in the distance that isn’t constant, OK. As long as dogs, music, and people aren’t heard as well as I can hear them here.

The only bummer of it is, is that we’re still looking at being here another 2-3 months. At least. As Tom says, we have the rest of our lives, but I want out of here! I’ve been wanting out for years!

After looking at the land we went to K-Mart. They had ugly sundresses, but a surprising number of $20 porcelain dolls. They had some for $30 too, that were a little bigger.

What I did end up getting was a Heart CD. It was another Greatest Hits album, but this time, with the original recordings. Not live. I was hoping this one would have another version of Dreamboat Annie, a really beautiful song, for variety’s sake. They did. Only this one’s not nearly as nice. It also comes with the lyrics. Tom and I had tried to find Heart lyrics online to no avail.

Tom forgot the map, so he bought another one in Osco Drug so he could find the way to Red Lobster. Also, he wanted a newer map of the state. Osco Drug also had a handful of $20 porcelain dolls.

Our experience at Red Lobster was totally different than our last trip there a year ago. No kid could’ve thrown food at us if they wanted to as the nearest table was too far away. Also, all the neighboring diners were adults. There was one baby, but it slept the whole time it was there.

The lobster was good, but it didn’t seem as meaty this time around. Guess it was a little one. He had a hamburger.

Our last stop was the grocery store to quickly pick up a few items. When we were at the check-out counter, I saw a little booklet titled: The Right Way to Pray. Well, how hard can that be? Don’t you just ask God for what you want? Maybe there is a right way and a wrong way to pray since he’s never answered 98% of my prayers. Or maybe there simply is no right way we can pray for the things we aren’t meant to have. You can’t ask for what isn’t destined.

What is it with all this God shit popping up, anyway? There are so many commercials about books to get on how to establish a personal relationship with God. Well, to each their own, and yes, God’s blessed me in many ways, but for the most part, he’s allowed pain and hardship to be inflicted upon me and I don’t care to establish a relationship with someone that could do that to me. I don’t do connections with control freaks whether they’re parents, Gods, or whoever.

I look in the mirror and I still see a pudgy person there. How can Tom call me skinny? I swear I’m only thin in the wrists and ankles! Having such a small mouth doesn’t help my face. It makes it look bigger. I also wonder if my bottom teeth will always go downhill from left to right. Since the teeth on the right side are back further, it makes it look like the teeth on the left side are taller. Well, even if they stay like they are - they’re great compared to what I started with. They’re plenty straight enough now.

Later...

I got to thinking about it and started wondering if all those private calls not only could be Andy, but messages he’s leaving that I’m not getting, so even though I doubted that the machine was fucked up, I called and left a message asking him about it, but he says it’s not him that’s been calling. Well, I admit that it could be sales or Eldon, but my gut instinct says it’s Andy. The calls are coming when I know he’s home, and I really think he had Michelle call when he was back east to try to throw me off. A private call came in right after he left his message. What better way to try to throw someone off than to call right after leaving a message denying you’ve been calling them, huh? I should know. I used to do the same thing he’s doing. Well, although I’m curious to know who the caller is for sure, they say your gut instinct is the one to trust, so I think I can bet on it being Andy. OK then Andy, have your fun while it lasts!

Really, though, if it’s entertaining to him - fine. The loser doesn’t have anything better to do. It’s so sad, too. This guy isn’t dumb. I mean, he is and he isn’t. If he only wouldn’t waste his life sitting home getting stoned, he could offer this world so much.

Anyway, in his message denying the calls, he didn’t say anything about the pants, just that he had a dream about Quinn (oh, God!) and that he misses him. Also, he knows where Papago Butte is and wouldn’t mind visiting me there cuz it’s not too far. Well, Andy dear, it’s about 40 minutes away from where you are, you say you have a shit car that’s unregistered, and the town is Maricopa. Only the mountain’s called Papago Butte (not that we’re definitely gonna live at the base of this mountain). But it doesn’t matter how close or how far it is, cuz I know he’s not going to be visiting.

My vibes have been right so far. No music from next door. All we saw was the gold car come to visit and Tom said he heard voices out back yesterday afternoon when he was rinsing paintbrushes. I told him I knew the humidity wouldn’t stop them from hanging out back (not that I care about voices at this point. It’s music I care about) and he said they may’ve been inside the house with the evaporative cooler running which needs open windows. I said I was surprised they’d run the cooler and not the AC, and he said they may not have much of a choice. Really? I thought everything was paid for them - their bills, their food, their clothes, etc. Maybe not, though. The electricity may’ve been included in the Oswego Street project, but it wasn’t in the NHA.

Just heard the van return and two car doors. One for him. One for her. So, does the smaller fat lady, whose name I don’t know, stay home and watch the kids when Debra and her hubby take off? Who is this woman in relation to Deb? Her mom? Sister? Cousin? In-law? Friend? I never got a good look at her to see if I could see a resemblance to Deb and how old she might be, but she’s gotta be in her 40s at the very least. I can’t tell if Deb’s in her 20s or 30s. Her face is so swollen with fat that her eyes are nearly swollen shut and I can’t see lines and wrinkles too well if they’re there.

No calls from Andy (yet). Now that’s really surprising. I mean, aren’t we gonna have to play phone a zillion times over a lousy pair of pants? Isn’t he gonna have to call a zillion times leading up to the big drop-off of these pants? Maybe they’re already out front, but I’m not gonna check right now. Not with the hinges loaded with masking tape. We masked the doors and shit like that that we didn’t want the paint sprayer to hit.

For the last 5 days or so, there have been private messageless calls. Tom says it could be Eldon, whose number comes up as private, and who’s been known to call and leave no message. Could be Andy, too.

Later...

Tom took the air compressor inside so he could spray paint and he made a major breakthrough with covering the wall art. Most of it barely shows anymore, so that’s great. He did the kitchen and the living room yesterday, although the living room ceiling still needs to be done. Today he’s gonna concentrate on the bedrooms.

The bathroom fan does a great job. Not one drop of moisture was on the mirror when I stepped out of the shower.

To give my hair a break from the same old, same old, I switched shampoos. This one has a separate shampoo and conditioner, unlike the one I’d been using that had both in one bottle. Its vanilla scent, which seems to be a popular scent these days, is nice and it lets me use more conditioner. Those two-in-one put way more shampoo in than conditioner and this hair needs a ton of conditioner.

All’s been quiet next door since I got up at midnight. In fact, from what I can see, no vehicle at all has been over there. My vibes said there wouldn’t be any music, but my logic said there would be. Well, I’m glad my vibes have won so far, but I repeat, so far. The weekend’s young. However, since our chat last Sunday, I haven’t seen or heard anything more than the van’s comings and goings. No kids, no music, no voices. And thank you God for seeing that as of yet, I’ve been wrong on that dog vibe. If that vibe’s right, I just hope it’s not till after we’ve moved. I don’t know if their quietness is a result of our talk, or if it would’ve panned out this way anyway, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

Later...

The van went out at 6:30. It’s deathly humid out there now, and hot. That might curb any shit from going down next door, and my vibes are good, but I don’t know. It didn’t stop that black cock from banging in and out of there when he was here in the heat and humidity, but so far, no sign of the ranchero or the white car.

Sex was pretty amazing earlier. Makes me wonder if he’s read my recent writings about the same old, same old getting rather old. He’s still making excuses, as usual. Don’t get me wrong. He’s still on the back excuse trip, saying it’s really weak and needs to be strengthened. Maybe so, and although he denies this, perhaps his age has something to do with it, too. Whatever. What was amazing was that he suddenly, out of the blue, asked if I wanted to go on top. I guess a part of this was cuz of his back and not just for the sake of variety, but what was even more amazing than me being on top for the first time in ages, was that I had no problem guiding him in there. As almost always, neither of us came. I asked if he’s cum by that before and he said yes. Anyway, I told him the variety was nice, and that although I did prefer to screw and be on the bottom most of the time, I like a change of pace every so often. Actually, I wish he’d go down on me every other time we got together (it just feels the best), but I know that that would be too much to ask of him. Way too much. The guy’s tongue would fall out! It takes me longer to cum nowadays. Besides, I already made my feelings known about him going down on me for a change, he didn’t do it, and I don’t want to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Less than 24 hours to go before the peace we’ve had around here since Sunday’s gone.

I saw a bunch of people working on the rental yesterday, but I don’t know what they were doing. They were hammering an assortment of objects that were on the ground, they were on the roof, they were everywhere. I can’t believe the place is still empty, but I doubt it’ll last much longer.

I wish I could get myself to quit worrying about what I eat and just live life. Tom says I’m skinny, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m far from it. I’m not huge either, but I’m plump. Quite chunky in most areas. I will never be any thinner than I am now, so I wish I could get myself to stop wasting my time on diets. Also, although I want to, getting a home gym will be a tremendous waste of money. I’m just gonna do what I always do - I’ll stick to it with utter dedication and determination for the first few weeks, and then I’ll have to push myself. I always lose interest and drive. I’m still doing my stomach exercises, but barely. It’s a real struggle to get myself to do it. All that ambition I felt for a couple of weeks there is gone. Perhaps the reason I lack motivation is that I know I’m so limited. I knew my stomach wasn’t gonna get any flatter than where I’d flattened it to after a couple of weeks.

Tom worked a zillion hours overtime, again, as usual, cuz of a failed hard drive that runs the sorter he uses. When are we ever gonna get back on track with the painting, and when will this painting ever end, and when will we get the fuck out of here?! Before Lisa tries calling a hundredth time? Before Tammy decides to go on a let’s-forget-the-past-and-move-on-till-the-same-old-shit-happens-again-for-the-zillionth-time calling spree? Before Andy asks for a dozen more favors or wants me to go somewhere with him? Before next door’s company has banged in and out enough times to drive me crazy and wake me up?

Lisa’s only called once so far, but here we go with Andy’s favors again. Can’t come over without needing something from me. Couldn’t God have held him off just until we could finally get the fuck out of here?! He needs another button sewn. He says it popped off the first time he wore the pants, but I don’t buy it for a second. I’ve never heard of anyone popping buttons like he does, and sometimes I think he does it deliberately just to get a favor from me. And he happens to need to bring the pants over to me on a weekend? He says he wants to bring them over for just “5 minutes” or drop them off. Anything to rebel and to butt into my weekends! I left him a message to just drop them off and I’ll call him when they’re done. I told him we’d be out all weekend looking at land.

What’s he gonna do when I’m gone? He’s gonna have to learn to sew his own buttons on. And stop eating, too! I’m sure that most of this constant button popping is cuz he’s stuffing the shit out of himself. And I also think that’s the cause of the bulk of his puking, too. Stomachs and pants can only handle so much food.

Later...

Wow. It’s supposed to hit 110º this weekend. Finally! This is the mildest summer Arizona’s ever seen so far. It won’t stop cars from blasting in and out from, 10 PM-1 AM, though.

I listened to music, I scrubbed the bathroom, I scrubbed the kitchen sink, and now I’m bored shitless. Perhaps I should read and do some more cleaning since there’s nothing on TV but the usual, and since I have nothing to say till the weekend. Come the weekend, I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say. Till then and till we can get the fuck out of here, I find myself vegging out with my thoughts. I think about what my view is going to be like looking out at the natural desert landscape. You know how rotten a neighborhood Oswego Street was but did I ever tell you about the view? The exact view? From my back door, I could see a big old ugly dumpster. A few feet behind that was another 4-story brick building only it was empty and rundown. Some of its windows were boarded up and the ones that weren’t were smashed. There was graffiti all over it and garbage strewn everywhere. That was my view. And that was barely a decade ago.

Andy hasn’t called to tell me he was fired yet, so I guess that means he’s still working. He said the job was a piece of cake and that he has more free time than not while he’s there, so he reads magazines.

Also, he was puking his brains out like he always does the day before he starts a new job. But why? He should be an expert on starting new jobs. He only starts 50 new jobs a year.

Tom was rubbing against me suggestively when I got up. I asked him if he needed a quickie and he said no because it’d be too quick of a quickie and he had to shave. But he had nearly an hour and a half before work. Talk about being inflexible!

Anyway, I feel sexually trapped. This guy just does not want to branch out, explore, experiment, or try anything new when it comes to sex. It’s the same old, same old. It’s starting to get to me, but again, knowing I’m sexually hexed and knowing my bitching about it won’t change anything, I just keep my mouth shut and go along with what he wants in bed as we always have. I mean, there’s no variety. I know what we’ll do step by step whenever we get into bed. There are no surprises anymore. It’s not new and exciting anymore, and I know it’ll really turn him on if I bitch about it (I know it sounds horrible saying this about this otherwise great man, but it’s true. I just know it is), and that God has me hexed sexually no matter what, no matter who it’s with. It doesn’t matter if it’s only him for the rest of my life or a million people. Hexed is hexed. I can’t get him to break his rut of the same old and try something different for a change, and when I can, it’s only once or twice, then it’s right back to the usual. His idea of variety is stopping before we even begin. And every single Goddamn weekend it’s the excuses. 90% of the time, there’s a problem. He can’t just screw and not make excuses for why he has to stop. I know why he has to stop, but I was obviously right when I said he’d never admit to it. Then why not just keep his mouth shut? Why the constant excuses? If he can’t come out and admit his fears and ask that we use birth control, does he have to make excuses instead?

I’ve never enjoyed sex with this guy and I think about quitting, but what kind of guilt trip will he lay on me for it? How guilty will I end up feeling regardless? What will God do to me for it?

Speaking of God and his doing things to me, it’s quite a coincidence that I’ve been bothered, once again, by his taking away my right as a woman to choose, ever since the showdown with next door this weekend. See? If I don’t take what he dishes out to me, he inflicts some kind of pain or punishment upon me for it. There’s just no fighting what God’s got on the menu for me. I fear that if I go against God by throwing away the sex, he’ll do something to me emotionally for it.

Anyway, Tom straightened up the kitchen and the living room of papers and hardware, and I cleaned the refrigerator.

He got some more boxes today and a pretty, colorful pad of notepaper for me.

Later...

Next door’s still quiet at night and during the daytime. They still seem to go in and out a lot, the first trip usually starting now, at 6 AM.

I’m not at all looking forward to the weekend, as always. I don’t know if that white car did start to move in only to change its mind, if it only planned to be there for the weekend, or what, but I do know there’ll be some kind of shit over there this weekend. My guess is that the white car will bang in and out, or the ranchero will. I’ll probably send the city letter off next Monday. Especially if they fuck up my schedule which I just managed to get back on track so we can go look at land Monday, as well as to Red Lobster and to Wal-Mart.

I’ve gone from 107 pounds to 111 pounds. Yeah, I knew I would. Am I gonna try to lose it again? No. I’m not gonna bother, cuz I’ll just gain it right back.

Later...

Oh, no. Here we go again with Lisa trying to call collect. I’m not gonna answer and tell her a third time not to call me. I’m just gonna ignore her calls and hope they stop while we’re still here. We just can’t get out of here fast enough!

There was a private call a little while ago. Could it have been Andy? They didn’t leave a message, but he’s supposed to be at work now. What’d he do? Bail out of this job, too?

Andy left a message about starting a 2-week temp job answering phones during the day for $9 an hour (which he’ll quit or lose by Friday) and in my reply, I told him my feelings about not acknowledging our anniversary. He left a message saying he doesn’t acknowledge anyone’s anniversaries. Only birthdays. He said it was because he didn’t believe in marriage, then he chuckled and said he didn’t know why. I know why. It’s because he’s jealous. I know jealousy when I see it. It’s OK, though, to be jealous. I understand how badly he wishes he could say he’s been with someone for years and has had a great relationship with them. Then he tried to say he wasn’t sure when our anniversary was, but he thought it was June 15th. He knew that. He knew damn well when it was, cuz I mentioned it before the 15th. He can’t even blame his scrambled pot memory on that one, but he didn’t try. Anyway, we acknowledge what we acknowledge and I told him that’s OK (but of course, only I know, despite how much he may suspect it, that this will be our last anniversary where we’re friends).

Later...

Boy, have I been in a lazy mood! I got up at 12:30 last night, but all I wanted to do for the most part was lay around. At 10:00 this morning I ended up conking out till 5:30. I hope this doesn’t mean my schedule is fucked up for Monday. Monday, his birthday, we were gonna go to Red Lobster and look at some land.

Tom called yesterday about some land advertised in the Penny Saver, and we received info on it today. He said there are some promising deals.

Also, ironically enough, a lady left a message saying she sold some property in this area, so, if we’re interested, give her a call. That’s quite a coincidence, although I doubt we’ll be needing her.

It looks like I may’ve forgotten to mention this, but about a week ago, Paula left a message. It came up as private, so she apparently called from a friend’s house. I hope she doesn’t ring someone else’s bill up to call me. It doesn’t look like she’ll be doing that, though. She said she didn’t want a phone anymore, she’ll call me back, and everything’s OK. She hasn’t tried to call back yet, as far as I know. Also, I doubt it was a case of her simply not wanting a phone anymore. Maybe some guys were bothering her, but I think the main reason she lost the phone was due to so many calls to me. Also, she didn’t sound “OK.” She sounded rather down.

Yesterday, I gave Mel (who decided to leave that bracket off) a few pictures of animals I printed out for her, as well as a few of myself at different stages of my life, including one of my hair just past my shoulders back when I was 24.

As I stood up to leave, I wondered - was her big, baggy smock just sticking out? Or was she pregnant? I certainly wasn’t gonna ask and risk offending her and making her wonder if she was suddenly huge-looking and if it was just a case of her smock sticking out. Well, I’ll pay closer attention next time I see her, but it’s awfully hard to picture her pregnant. She just doesn’t look like a mom, nor does she seem like the type to want the hassle. I always pictured her as either never having kids, or not having them till she was in her late 30s.

I decided to forget about singing softly since we did make a deal, after all, to go to our doors if there’s a problem. So, if she can hear me, and if it bothers her, let her come to my door. I highly doubt she can hear me, though, cuz it’s in the house that sound goes easily, not out of the house.

I still haven’t seen the white car since Sunday, and all’s been quiet, but it’s not the weekend yet, either. I know the ranchero and the white car will be banging in and out next weekend, too. At least that white car doesn’t live there like I was beginning to fear was the case. I think it’ll live there on weekends, though.

Things kind of came to a head around here yesterday, but it may be for the better. It’s too soon to tell, but it just may’ve been a good thing.

At around 5 AM yesterday, when Tom was getting up, they finally shut up next door. I typed the city a letter too, but we agreed to hold off on the mayor’s till the house went up for sale.

As we were going to Jack-n-the-Box at 7:00, I saw a guy walk out from between the houses in the carport, glance at us, then go back towards the backyard.

When we returned, the hood of the van was open, and I was thinking, great. Just great. So now they’re gonna be playing car repair all day like most freeloaders do and who knows what noise that’ll trigger being just a few feet away.

Between 8:00-9:00, the white car banged in and out 3 times. The final time, which was finally loud enough to wake me up, was the final straw. I blew from there. The years of having to deal with neighbor’s shit had taken its toll on me and I snapped. The stupid fucks with the white car backed the car out in the middle of the driveway, then left it sitting there with the bass booming while they went inside the house. So I stormed over there and walked up to their door which was wide open and let them know I was fed up and they had to shut up. At the same time I was turning to walk away, a woman was saying, “Will you please get out of my house” (but I didn’t step foot over their threshold and I reminded her that it wasn’t her house). Once I was back at our door (Tom was outside at this point) and the dudes with the white car came out. Tom was telling them to turn it down but they played deaf and dumb. Then he told me to call the cops, but they were leaving right as the dispatcher answered, so I told her to never mind and I hung up. She called right back and Tom told her the scoop.

Just as he hung up with the dispatcher, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood two fat ladies and a guy. From there on out, I was thoroughly surprised and even impressed with what transpired. I was a little confused, too. The bigger woman, Debra, who looked and sounded white just like the other woman even though Tom thought she looked Hispanic, told me she was trying to buy the house. I guess the city has different programs and that they’re on an extremely different program than the blacks were on. How can a low-income person afford to buy a house? How can jobless people afford to buy a house? And how can 5 adults and at least 4 kids live in that house and still have room to breathe?

Anyway, Deb basically did all the talking. Her husband, who seemed like a very subdued, passive individual and who appears to be Mexican, said nothing. The other lady, whose name I don’t know, only spoke a few scattered sentences.

The 5 of us spoke for about 10 minutes and Deb let us know that my temper wouldn’t get me anywhere, if there was a problem with anything please come to her and not yell over the wall or go off on her guests, and that she knew where our door was, so she’d do the same. We agreed to this, and as I let her know, it was music that concerned me more than voices or anything else.

She said she was a good person and that she wanted to talk like normal human beings. Well, I must give her credit for coming over and talking to us like a civilized adult. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to try to reason with us or compromise. She could’ve come over yelling right back. But she didn’t and I appreciate and admire her for it. She’s to be commended for how she handled the situation, which was far better than how I handled it.

All’s been quiet since I got up at 10:30 (Tom didn’t leave any messages, so I guess that means they were quiet) and the white car hasn’t been back that I know of, but don’t get me wrong. Even though I feel much calmer and have a good feeling about how things will go from here, that doesn’t mean that some sort of shit won’t go down (mainly with the white car or some other vehicle). Maybe they’ll go right back to being just as loud, or even worse of a nightmare, but for now, I’m hopeful that things will be OK till we can move, and I feel much more comfortable having met these people. Now that I know the people and have seen the faces behind the voices, I’m not as stressed out.

Tom and I agreed that from here on out, if there are any more problems, to let him know about it in full detail, then he’ll go talk to them.

From here on out, even though I’m sure I can’t be heard, I’m going to be singing really soft so they can’t say I’m practicing what I preach. Normally, I wouldn’t care, since they’ve been noisy and since most people out here are noisy, but I have to care. They have music more powerful than mine. Music that can take away my sleep. Therefore, as far as they’re concerned (if they stay quiet), they don’t know I exist.

So, we’ll just see what happens from here on out. I’m putting a hold on the city letter for now. I may even forget about sending them any excerpts on them after we move. It’s one thing to call a person a racial slur behind their backs as a way of venting, but it’s totally wrong, as far as I’m concerned, to directly call anyone a racial slur.

Even if things do go well from here on out, I still think they were wrong to be as noisy as they have been, and I still think it was intentional. I think they wanted to get attention and acknowledgment and I don’t condone their antics.

Meanwhile, I never meant to condemn them or anyone else for their lifestyle. The only time I have a problem with someone else’s way of doing things is when it comes through my walls. I don’t sic my noise on others. Therefore, I expect them to keep their noise and music for their ears only, too. I expect others to treat me as I treat them.

How do the kids sleep throughout all this loud babbling? Somehow, I doubt these wonderful role models give a shit.

Anyway, they’ve been out back gabbing away since I got up at 10:30. Makes me wonder if they could ever run out of things to say to each other. They just never seem to come up for air. The mouths go on and on and on, and bitch! I hate you for moving! I never thought that I’d be faced with having to worry about next door again like this. Especially after midnight! If it weren’t for us moving, I’d be out back screaming for them to shut up, even though I know it wouldn’t do me any good. Besides, I did say I’d fan out anything that wasn’t bass and that could be fanned out during our remaining weeks left here (unless God sees fit to add more time to our stay here). I really feel bad for the next people in here, cuz knowing how God works, odds are they’ll be nice folks who won’t deserve this shit. Not assholes, or assholes that are just as noisy.

Other than their vocal antics, this is the quietest Saturday yet with them here and that will probably ever be. Tom said there was the expected weekend company, but no music, and only a couple of cars. He didn’t see that white car.

Unbelievably, the van came and went from 10 PM last night to late in the morning. Over 12 hours of coming and going to and from God only knows where. From what we can gather, these fucks are sleeping from around noon-8 PM. I’ve never seen anything like this coming and going. Not even the blacks and the renters combined had these many vehicles and this many trips in and out.

I’m a little disappointed with Tom, cuz I feel like he reneged on our deal. He said if I insisted, he’d send out the city and mayor letters Monday but would prefer to wait till the house went up for sale. But who knows how many more weeks away that is?

I thought I just heard car doors, but I just went into the music room where they can be heard loud and clear and they’re still there. Why are they sitting out gabbing in the dark? Not one light is on over there.

Anyway, Tom thinks that others have complained already. I don’t think so. If they complained about these people, then why didn’t they complain about the blacks? And why isn’t the city doing anything like they did with the blacks?

Tom said that the city won’t do anything cuz of the way they run things. He said the mayor will, cuz mayors know that people write letters to newspapers if the mayor fails to respond to their letters. Well, I disagree, but maybe I’m wrong. I don’t think that just because the mayor’s in real estate and sold David this house that it means he’ll do something about the shit next door. If the city doesn’t do something, no one will. Not unless we the people take action and go over there and shoot all of them dead ourselves.

As I told Tom, I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, but I don’t think we can rely on other people having complained first, or wait till we put the house up for sale in case we can’t put it up for sale for months. Something’s stalling us and keeping us here by hurling one setback after another at us, as I knew would be the case eventually. It does not want us leaving here, and as far as I can see, if we don’t gain by the letters, can we really lose that much?

Yesterday, we thought we finally found the answer to the wall art not being able to be covered by putting on a thick joint wall compound, but guess what? As soon as it dried, the wall art was visible again. It just won’t fucking go away! And of course, he’s still in denial, saying it will get covered with spray paint, but no it won’t. Only painting the walls black or wallpapering will cover it. At least he got the bathroom vent working.

Yesterday morning I wished to hell I had the camera ready for that fat bitch who mooned me really good. It was barefoot, wearing a short dress as it bent over to grind out a cigarette. It obviously doesn’t believe in underwear either. Got a perfect full view of that fat ass!

I figured out how to program my stereo to play the Heart songs I like best repetitiously while I slept, but that didn’t go over very well. I kept waking up for the first few hours of sleep. I turned it off and slept well from there on out. If I’m gonna ever need music, I’m gonna have to go back to playing Gloria’s instrumental CD. That has a steadier beat, although if music pulls in next door that’s loud enough, nothing short of blasting my stereo will override it.

Later...

This is fucking unbelievable! Totally! It’s 3:00 in the morning and the freeloaders are still out there gabbing. I went out back a few minutes ago and screamed for them to shut up. I knew it wouldn’t work, but it made me feel good just to scream like that. Someone answered, “Hello? Are we really that loud?”

I told them, yeah, they were, and that I’d have them evicted. Then all I could make out through the garble of 3-4 voices was something about how they’re only human, but I didn’t want to hear anymore. I just came inside and threw the headphones on and watched a movie.

I’m telling you, no one complained. No one complained and no one ever will.

Why God?! Why me?! Why is it always next to me?! Any prayers to God for peace around here are going unanswered, as always. He wants this for me. He wants me inflicted with this shit from neighbors.

Later...

Still gabbing away non-stop. Also, I just noticed that the white car’s here behind the van now. I knew it’d be back. I forgot to say that it left quietly yesterday morning at 8:30.

These are obviously “seasonal freeloaders.” If it were December, they’d be gabbing all day and sleeping at night. At least I think they would be. You call this human, though? Normal humans don’t gab outside till 3:30 in the fucking morning, and if there’s anything I do agree with Tom on, it’s that no, they don’t mind getting evicted. If you’re gonna be out gabbing at this hour, you can’t be worried about getting evicted, and if you are stupid enough to be out gabbing at this hour, and someone threatens you with eviction, and you still gab on, then you really don’t mind being evicted.

This is not a good moving sign. Between the freeloaders and the wall art crisis and other setbacks, this is not a good moving sign at all. I really hope Tom will write the letters now and stop assuming too much. I mean, what if we are here till September? Or even later? I’m not putting up with their shit that long. No way!

If the kids are sleeping while they’re up yacking away all night, who watches them during the daytime?

I woke up at 107 pounds, and haven’t had much of an appetite. First time I’ve been this low in ages, but you can thank the freeloaders for it. It’s cuz of the stress from their shit. Whenever the fuck we get out of here, I’m sure I’ll be struggling like hell to keep from going over 110 pounds.

I was eating popcorn when the bracket let go. I doubt the popcorn did it, cuz I’ve been eating it ever since the braces went on and that was over a year ago, but just in case, I’m having more graham crackers and less popcorn. There are fewer calories in a serving of bite-size graham crackers than in a bag of popcorn, although you certainly don’t get as much. Still, it should be filling enough as a snack. If I have two servings a day that is a couple of hundred calories each, a couple of 200-calorie TV dinners, and a banana or two, that should keep me from going over 110 once the stress comes off. No wonder I was so thin back east and when I first got here!

I’m just too stressed out to do much when I’m not writing or listening to music. I can’t concentrate on reading. All I do is sit and stare at the wall sometimes. I keep reminding myself that we will be moving. It may not be soon enough, but it’ll happen. It doesn’t seem to reassure and calm me as much as I’d like.

Later...

And the lovely freeloaders continue to ramble on. How is it that the dogs haven’t been going off all night cuz of these freeloaders?

I wonder if these freeloaders are my present from God for having the hoop removed. Maybe he would’ve been more lenient with me with neighbors if I hadn’t gone against him, so to speak, and had it removed. Like I said, if I don’t take what he gives me, I’m really in for trouble.

Later...

Although somewhat quieter, the freeloaders are still out back. This time, I went out back now that it was getting light. I could smell that they were doing laundry. I thought you couldn’t raise kids if you were like me - no routine, schedule, or structure? Well, there are not just an awful lot of kids over there. There are an awful lot of adults over there, too. Maybe the adults that are up are childless, but I’ve never heard of a childless freeloader. They start breeding practically as soon as they hit puberty, and they don’t stop till menopause.

I wonder - is the white car gonna be here every night? Or just during weekends? Will the freeloaders be out back every night from here on out while we’re still here?

The van’s been gone an hour and a half. This is the longest it’s stayed out this late that I know of. What if they went to Mexico or somewhere and are having the people with the Ranchero and white car babysit their many mistakes? That’d be all I’d need! Unless they’re not back by 2:00, I’ll assume the van will be returning, then the white car and the Ranchero can bass out. They don’t mind waking up the kids. They don’t just shit on others. They shit on each other, too.

Why has God been so obsessed with using kids and music against me like he has since 1992? Why?! The kids are easier to deal with than the bass, and people attached to me that live directly next to or above me like in the NHA and the apartments I had here. But still, I just don’t get it. God’s obviously not using the kids to show me that he has that planned for me, too. I’ve known all my life I was destined to be childless, like it or not, and 6 years of unprotected sex with a virtually cumless dick has proved that. Maybe God just felt that knowing I wasn’t going to have kids, he felt it wasn’t fair that I live my whole life without a taste of what it’s like to have them close by. Well, believe me, God, I know what it’s like!

Good. The van’s back. Now can we just pack it in for the night and be done with all this shit till tomorrow night so I can have some peace and concentrate on things I want to do?

Anyway, the only reason I can think of as to why God would sic the music on me is due to people I’ve bugged with my stereo, like my old neighbors on Oswego Street and Woodside Terrace (the first time I lived there). If this is the case, once again, it just goes to show how I have to get what I gave many times over. If I make one prank phone call, I get four. Get it? There’s no way in hell anyone could’ve been as bothered by my music as I’ve been by other people’s music. No way. Not even close. There’s no comparison between the stereos I had back in the mid to late 80s, and these bassy car stereos and that band that used to play across the street. If you played the stereo I had back then full blast, it still couldn’t come close to the volume of one of these car stereos playing softly.

It’s almost 1 AM. Makes me wonder if the white car and the Ranchero, or at least one of them, will be staying overnight. They may be too doped up to leave, but if that white car wants out, the van’s gonna have to move first.

Tom was right about Mexican music being less bassy. I heard plenty of bass, don’t get me wrong, but I heard more drums than bass. It doesn’t matter, though. Drums on these stereos are just like bass - they both sound like someone’s hammering your walls. I’m sleeping with my stereo on for damn sure. I know they’re gonna wake me up. It seems only inevitable. It also seems only logical that that’d be just what the Gods would order, too.

Later...

I can’t see for sure, but it looks like the Ranchero left.

It’s a damn shame these sick fucks have so many laws on their side. These fuckeroos are next to impossible to evict, and even if we could have them out of here tomorrow - they’ll just turn around and have people move in that are just like these assholes and the last ones, too. It’s a widespread, endless cycle. And of course, their millions of kids grow up to be just as fucked up, if they stay alive and out of jail.

Tom caught Melanie’s call to remind me of our Monday appointment and told her the scoop. She said it’s a common thing, go ahead and keep it waxed in place, and she’ll glue it back Monday.

Later...

The van left again, but the white car is still there. Just where the fuck do these people need to go 50 times a day and is the white car staying overnight or what?

I brought up the idea to Tom (in a phone msg) of us exploring and experimenting with sex stimulants when we move, figuring that if we use lubricants, why not try stimulants, too? I have a feeling, though, that this stuck-in-a-rut kind of guy here won’t want to bother, but OK. I have vibrators to spice things up. I still say that the vibrators do the trick for me better than he can, anyway. They’re more reliable. They don’t work, they don’t sleep, they’re always on my schedule available when I want them, and they don’t have a million excuses.

Anyway, all he said in his reply was that he wanted fun when he got up. Says he deserves it and that I owe him that. No prob. I just hope my crotch won’t mind, cuz we skipped last weekend. I wouldn’t be too surprised if he came either, cuz I’m getting close to a period.

He also said that he’s gonna work 8 hours on Saturday, 6 on Sunday, then evaluate where we are and decide the rest of the week from there. I feel like we’ve got a long way to go yet. We haven’t even bought the land yet! If we could just finish this fucking painting and cover this fucking wall art I never thought I’d regret doing so badly!

Later...

The van’s back and the white car’s still here. The front light’s off, though, so that tells me all the more that the white car’s staying overnight. The fact that I’ve never seen this car before worries me. What if one of the adults living over there just got this car and what if it’s here to stay? I saw two people get out of this car, but that doesn’t matter. The passenger could’ve been a friend. These subsided blacks and Mexicans know a whole shitload of people.

Just a few more days and the city and the mayor will be hearing from us. But is Tom right for sure? Will it worsen things? Do they really not mind getting evicted? Or will it have the same effect on them as on the blacks? I tend to agree with Tom. Not just for the reasons he does, but because I’ve learned that just because something works once, doesn’t mean it will again. In fact, it’s usually just the opposite. What brought good results once tends to bring negative results the second time around. Or at least with the second batch of assholes. Well, it took two letters for the blacks to get it, so maybe after our 10th letter, the fucks will either shut up or move out.

Later...

No, he won’t be cumming. He’s gone to “do a duty” before we get together, so that tells me something right there. It’s just a gut feeling, know what I mean? He took the little computer in to play Hearts, he says, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if he got relief out of the way first, but again, it’s best that he does. Despite what’s destined, a man shouldn’t cum in a woman that doesn’t want kids if they’re not gonna use birth control.

OK, now that I’ve had time to calm down somewhat, I’ll update the latest batch of shit I’ve had to deal with.

First, though, next door seemed to have taken their antics indoors at about 11:30, and the van made its last trip in and out at around that time, too. At my last 1 AM check, I could see the glow of a TV coming from over there. See, I really think they’ve got themselves scheduled by the weather. I knew there was no way they’d stay inside just because it was hotter and more humid. They’ve got to get the neighborhood’s attention. Apparently, they’re sleeping in later and going out when it’s cooler. They might be sleeping till late afternoon.

Well, we’ll be taking care of the freeloaders, but meanwhile, enough of them and onto other things.

One of my brackets popped off. At first I thought it was gonna be a big deal and something I couldn’t live with till Monday that’d have to be dealt with like now. However, I waxed it and it’s holding it in place well enough till I can get in to see Mel Monday. Tom says he’s still gonna try to be here when they call tomorrow, tell them what the scoop is, and see what they recommend. I think it’ll hold till Monday with the wax, and fortunately, it’s the second tooth from the back, so I can eat on the other side of my mouth. If it were a front incisor, rather than a back molar, I’d have to have only liquid foods, not that that’d kill me to do if I had to.

Later...

I checked just before 2 AM and the lights are out. Maybe they are up during the day, but just don’t go outside. Or maybe I don’t hear them if they’re out. I didn’t know they were out till I went to check on Shiny. With the fan on, I couldn’t hear them. With the AC running and not the cooler, I couldn’t smell their food. As Tom suggested, maybe I ought to just stay inside and fan them out. That way, I won’t have to know they exist and burn with rage and want to go kill them.

My idea to sand the wall art was a bust. Tom’s new plan is to go around and paint the walls and ceiling completely. No more playing games, he says. Then, he’s gonna spray paint the wall art. He says that’ll cover it cuz you can get more on that way. I hope so! He says we’re still on for early August. I really, really hope so!!!

Later...

Another day with the freeloaders to deal with.

I didn’t get up till 8:00, their peak time these days. Tom said he hadn’t heard anything since being home at around 9 AM. That kind of didn’t surprise me. They didn’t start up till 10:00. It’s only just after 10:30 now, and I’m sure they’ll be up doing God knows what till around 1:30.

At 10:00, a white car I’ve never seen before came blasting in. It sat in the driveway for a couple of minutes to let the neighborhood know it had arrived, and by the time I got out there and screamed to keep it down, I didn’t want to know they exist, and that I was to have them evicted, the cock was walking towards the house. It glanced at me for a second without a word, then kept on walking.

A few minutes later, I thought it was leaving, but it obviously came out to test/bait me, along with 3-4 of the Mexicans that live there, then they deserted the car which is still out there. The weird thing about it was that they only based me out for barely half a minute. Just as I was on my way out there to really raise some hell of my own, the music stopped. The people stayed, though. I couldn’t make out a word they were saying, but I can guess what must’ve been said. Something like, “Go ahead. Have us evicted. We don’t care.” Or “No one can get us evicted. We can do anything we want and get away with it, too.” Yeah, well if this is what they think, they’re gonna learn the hard way how wrong they are.

I was surprised to see the van leave as early as 6 AM yesterday, just 6 hours after its last trip. Just when do these people sleep?

Anyway, I haven’t heard anyone hanging out back yet, but I’m sure I’ll know it when this white car leaves.

All I know is that I’m being severely compensated for the two months that house was empty, just like I knew I would. Something’s really out to get me good lately, and I don’t know why.

My stereo conked out again on me yesterday, but thankfully, Tom fixed it. God’s really on a let’s-get-Jodi spree now. So let me guess - he’s gonna have that white car return tomorrow earlier so it can wake me up, right? But why?! Why is God letting this happen?! What did I ever do to these people? And the last people? And the last? I thought people were supposed to only have people harassing them who did something to deserve it first. Well, that’s the way it should be, but it’s obviously not. People just don’t know when to give up, either. They pick and pick and pick. They just don’t know when to quit provoking.

I’d still like to know what I ever did to these people. Why does God insist on throwing these people on me like this? I don’t even know these people. Why can’t God allow me to be left alone? And just what will he have done to me for moving away from these people he seems so desperate to sic upon me?

I think Tom’s right - these blatant fucks are blatantly illegal, and now that they know they have enemies (which they obviously sought out as an excuse to badger people all the more), they’re gonna really live it up at our expense, and I’m sure they’ll insist that this white car visit more often now, too. How I’m gonna keep from killing these people, beats me. I’m so pissed right now and my adrenaline is so pumped up that I could probably take on a champion boxer. Okay, so not literally but these people just don’t care and they just don’t get it. They really are extremists.

Later...

These people are just as weird as the renters and the blacks, only ten times more fucked.

See, it’s in the middle of the day for these people. It’ll be a few more hours before things die down around here. The Ranchero decided to make a visit. The white car and the van backed out of the driveway. The van took off somewhere. After a few minutes of shouting, the white car pulled into the driveway. The Ranchero stayed on the street. Both the white car and the Ranchero have bassy stereos, so which one was playing music, which was shockingly sort of soft, I can’t say for sure, but I’ll bet it was the white car. The Ranchero, also shockingly, was only here for a few minutes (but will probably be back). I heard a shitload of voices hollering at each other.

Later...

I was right. The Ranchero’s back.

Later...

It used to be that these freeloaders wouldn’t slam doors and hang out in cars like the blacks did, but not anymore. There are at least two adults who went to hang out in the Ranchero, play a little bass, and so did their kids. Kids running around at nearly midnight in nothing but diapers! It’s sick! Fucking sick!

I hope one of their kids gets killed. Not only would the kid be better off dead, but maybe that’s what it’d take to teach them a lesson, although I doubt it. As long as there are Mexicans and blacks in this world, there’ll be trouble. If God would erase the Mexican and black population completely, he’d solve half our problems. I’m not saying there isn’t a lot of white trash out there, but how many good Mexicans and blacks do you know? I’ve met quite a few of these people and I can count the good ones on just one hand.

I saw the guy that talked to us and them walking around the other day. Tom was right when he said he walks around the neighborhood a lot.

Which of the 3 is the case here so far? 1. No one complained to the city. 2. Someone complained and the city didn’t talk to them. 3. Someone complained, the city talked to them, and true to what Tom said would be the case, they just don’t give a damn. I have a feeling it’s the first one that’s the case. Why must everything be up to us and dumped on our shoulders, huh?

Later...

The white car just left. Thank God! And please God, don’t let it come back in 10 minutes! I’m sure it’ll be back tomorrow, as it is. When the car started up, the music was a little loud, but get this - after just 3 beats, it turned it off. It turned it off! I couldn’t believe it! The Ranchero’s still here and the van’s still out unless it slipped in without my noticing it. I can’t believe that God doesn’t have this van, the vehicle that lives here, bass in and out 20 times a day. I wonder if it’ll start, though. That’d surely make things twice as bad if not more. If the Ranchero and the white car bang in and out regularly, though, that’ll make up for the lack of bass coming from the van.

Later...

Oh, God! I should’ve known better. The white car’s back. It came in with soft music. Why God? Why me?! What did I ever do to these assholes to deserve this?! There’s no doubt in my mind, though, that all these cars’ trips in and out are to get drugs. All that keeps going through my head over and over again is - bitch, why’d you have to move!

I haven’t heard from Andy since Monday, if I’m remembering correctly. He knows. He knows we’re basically finished. Who knows why he hasn’t called for sure; perhaps he’s waiting for the weekend, but I won’t call him till I hear from him. I want to see if I’m right or not about his not mentioning a damn thing about our anniversary before I go reminding him how it’s just as easy to be offended by him. I mean, he says he’s my “best friend” and he doesn’t even call and wish us a happy anniversary? Please! Some “best” friend. It’s not just about his being jealous, it’s about his being the typical selfish person Andy is famous for being.

It was pretty funny the other day how I reached to open a kitchen cabinet and ended up with half a handle in my hand (the door stayed closed). The middle chunk of the handle broke apart and let go, so we’ve got to replace that handle.

As I knew would be the case, we’re still having a hell of a time covering this fucking wall art I wish to hell I never did, even with the primer, but I got an idea. Tom said he didn’t think of it, which surprised me. I figured that if I thought of it, he must’ve too, but nope. Anyway, I thought we ought to take that sanding block, which only strips what’s on a wall and not the wall itself, and maybe that way we can get through the stubborn parts. The reds, oranges, blues, browns, blacks, and darker colors, just won’t budge. Tom isn’t sure this will work but is definitely willing to give it a try. I’m hoping to hell it will work without adding another week to our sentence here, but with our luck, something or another will keep us here into September, although it doesn’t look that way right now. But we need to get through this painting! If we could just get the inside painted, and the outside trim painted, we’re virtually home-free and ready to sell. Well, there are worse places to be than here on N. 21 Ave.

There was an ad in the Penny Saver with a good deal on a house on a 3.3-acre parcel of land with irrigation and all that, that Tom intends to call about on Monday. He said he was going to wait till Monday cuz he was tired of not being called back. Well, something just hit me - maybe he’s not being called back for a reason. Remember how God had people missing phone calls by seconds on other apartments for me in Connecticut? Well, of course, God knew it was my time to come out here. Well, maybe, just maybe, God is on our side about getting the model we want.

The rental’s still empty, and I wish God would keep it that way while we’re still here, but as I write this, I’m sure God’s up there looking down at me saying, keep dreaming!

The only thing I’ve seen from next door this week is a cock that lives there that came out at 7 PM and mowed. I guess they do have a mower. The weird part was that only 1 kid was out there, too. Not 4 or more. It was about 3 years old, playing in the driveway, stark naked except for its underwear.

Also, the van was there last night. I either just didn’t see it when I wrote my last report, or it was out. They didn’t hit the sack over there till around 12:30.

Tonight, the living room window blind that’s deeper in the carport is drawn shut. The other’s open and I can see straight through to the inside of their front door. They have shelves with God only knows what by that window. Some time I’ll take the binoculars and see if I can see what.

Tom says that if the weekend’s like today, no one will be hanging outdoors. He said it’s like we’ve skipped summer and went straight into the monsoons which aren’t supposed to be till August. It’s very humid out and definitely hotter than last Saturday. We’ll see, but I still say that even if there’s no music, not a ton of cars, no adults out, the kids will be. They’ll be outside screaming all day. There’ll be some sort of ruckus, and I’m not even gonna wait for them to act up. As soon as I get up, on goes the stereo. I may sleep through most of their wild times, though (God help them if they wake me up!). I’m trying to roll my schedule over for Melanie’s appointment on Monday.

Here’s something astounding - I don’t think they had company yesterday or today. From what I could see and remember, there wasn’t any other vehicle but the van.

Another thing that’s sort of surprising is that I haven’t seen the city come out. You’d think that by now, with all these fucking party animals, there’d be something to fix. They should go out and inspect a week or two after someone’s moved into their houses to make sure they’re sticking to the rules, but maybe they just don’t give a damn. They’re just too damn trusting and too damn naïve. Mexicans and blacks live to break rules, and I still can’t believe there’s no dog over there yet.

What I don’t get is why these freeloaders seem to act like they work. From what I’ve seen so far, they seem to have the bulk of their company and shit going on during weekends, just like with the blacks. Maybe their cronies actually work.

Later...

Typical, typical Mexican, I swear! This is just like on Oswego Street in "Puerto Rico." The air cleaner’s on, so naturally, I thought that at this hour, all would be quiet, but boy was I wrong. I went out back to see if I could coax the cat in to eat and got an earful of screams from the kids next door. They’re out barbecuing or something since I could smell food. Meanwhile, the backyard’s infested with screaming kids and I could hear adults, too. I screamed and got a scream from one of their many mistakes in return, along with laughter like it was some big fucking joke to them. What are these freeloaders gonna do - spend hours outdoors at night since it’s too hot and humid during the day? Thanks, God. Thanks a real fucking lot! In fact, they’re probably sleeping in late, just so they can be out at night. Anything to get attention and stand out like a sore fucking thumb. Fucking motherfucking freeloaders, I HATE them!

I can’t wait to see the letter to the city Tom’s gonna write. Why the fuck did that bitch have to move?! Even months after she’s gone she’s still pissing me the fuck off!

Even if these people were normal and quiet, I’d still be pissed at having to pay my tax dollars to these people just so they can sit around all day. Why can’t they get up off their lazy asses and work and support their own fucking needs?! Let them take care of their own damn kids!

Later...

Just went outside to do another “sound check.” I didn’t hear any kids this time. Just an adult female laughing. Yeah, sit on your fat ass and laugh at our expense bitch, but enjoy it while it lasts, you mother-fucking cunt, cuz I’m gonna set you straight before too long!

Later...

Next door is still going strong. What? Is it really a Saturday afternoon out there right now? I caught one of them peering over the wall, but couldn’t tell if it was an adult or not. It was too dark. I thought I heard what could’ve been a chair moving right after it saw that I saw it, suggesting it was a kid that climbed up to peer over, then ducked and jumped down when it saw me. Well, adults or kids, they can peer over all they want. If I catch any of them in the yard, though, they’ll learn in seconds what a grave mistake that was and that they picked the wrong yard. We better not have anything of value out in the yard or they’ll steal it for sure. They may even steal something that isn’t of value just to be stealing. These people don’t have brains enough to think their crimes through. They act on impulse and will risk their lives just for the sake of spontaneously stealing a fucking gum wrapper.