Now I can finally write worry-free, I hope. That’s subject to change at any moment when you live next to a pack of sick freeloaders. You just never know with these people. Even so, you have no idea how much I’ve come to love the late-night and early-morning hours. Just like the black’s prime time was typically between 2 PM-8 PM, these fuckaroos reign from around 4 PM -10 PM. This is the way it has been for the last several weeks. Come winter, though, I’m sure that’ll change to something like noon - 6 PM.

I could kill them. I could really kill them! I wouldn’t think twice if I could strike them all dead at the snap of a finger. They’re really stressing both of us out and slowing him down from getting us out of here. Between the freeloaders and that fucking bank, we’re never gonna get this fucking house up for sale! Tom’s had to lose sleep and time to prep to deal with my stresses, anger, and frustrations, but if these fucking freeloaders would just back off and just leave us the fuck alone, we could get out of here faster! 

Tonight was surprisingly mellow, but not last night. These people just aren’t going to let me ignore them, the sick fucks! A car I’ve never seen before, but was too dark to make out, came banging in real fucking loud last night at 9:30. Louder than the cock would blast his music. It would’ve woken me up for sure. When I went to the window, it was parked in front of our house (as if it was aimed at us), then some Mexican came and approached the driver’s side, and the music was then turned down, but still too loud. Then the car backed up in front of their house and the Mexican got into the passenger side and they just sat there. I said to myself, what? Did they steal this idea from the Mexicans that were across the street Friday night? Are they gonna have car stereos pull up blaring their music with plans to shut up and take off if the cops are called and claim they don’t know anything about it? Or that it was just someone asking for directions?

So this is when I was sorry to have to get Tom up, who’s had enough sleep robbed from him thanks to these sick freeloaders, but I wanted him to hear it too and see I wasn’t lying, then call that non-emergency number. But by the time he got to the window, there was no car there. However, we could still hear the music which stopped shortly after. He asked me if I checked to see if it was that car across the street, and truthfully, I didn’t even think to. I was so sure it was them, and I still am, that I didn’t think to bother.

Here are a few shocking things, though. The Ranchero visited last night and I never heard the thing come or go. The more I think about it, the more I believe the person with the Ranchero couldn’t visit for a while till last Wednesday. For whatever reason, be it cuz they were away, in jail, they couldn’t visit. But now that they can, they’ll be visiting regularly. Like 3-4 times a week. So when’s the white car gonna return?

Anyway, the kids have come out screaming at dusk, but fine. Just fine. Especially since it’s only short-term and can be fanned out. God, how I wish I could go back to the days when screaming kids and barking dogs were my only noise problems! That’s nothing compared to these bassy stereos! Not when you don’t have kids or dogs living in your house.

I called Tom at work cuz I was concerned for him and had a few questions for him. He said his stomach was feeling better (he always gets what I get, it seems. I had the same gassy stomach. His stress is worries over me going next door, and mine is cuz of next door’s noise harassment). Anyway, I told him all was fine, but did they yell out to him when he was leaving for work? I asked this cuz I saw a hundred kids and adults hanging out on the street in and around the cream pickup, gazing rather intently toward the garage, but couldn’t hear anything over this one kid’s screams. He said no, but his hesitation in answering made me wonder if they did, but he didn’t want to admit it for fear of my reaction towards them.

After he left, the pickup left for two hours, and an hour later, people were hanging out in the silver car that was in its place on the street. The driver’s door to the car was open and all the people milling about started making me very nervous. Again, we’re outnumbered and we aren’t the type to get trigger-happy. They are. And if they really do have death wishes or don’t mind jails and eviction, then they could do anything. So I asked Tom if he thought they were sitting there with a gun waiting to shoot him when he returned since they knew he’d gone out. He said that if they were, they were in for a very long wait, not to go outside, and all would be fine. Will it? I can’t help but have this ominous feeling of doom with these people. Take their calling the cops, for example. It hit me last night that they could’ve called them as a cover. Maybe they’re thinking that calling them will make them look like they’re the victims if they do something to us or the house. Maybe they’ll tell the cops, “See? See how bad they are? We had to call you before about them. We’re the victims and we just had to defend ourselves.”

They sat there for an hour, and the surprising thing about it was that they were actually quiet. Maybe they were remembering that we’re not their only neighbors, but I don’t think they’d mind pissing off others to get at us. Even more surprisingly, that car that banged in last night, which may’ve been a red Blazer or pickup I’ve never seen before, came banging in very softly. It pulled up twice behind the silver car. Never in front of our house.

I also saw something weird at 9:00. By the time I got to the window, I saw a girl walking at the side of the street who had possibly been talking to the people hanging out by the cars. She wasn’t really fat. Not like Deb and Fanny. She was smoking a cigarette as she began walking by the front of our house. She was looking right at our house, which made me momentarily nervous, wondering if they were going to do something to the house when she walked on past it and delivered a sheet of paper to the house to our left on the corner of W. Weldon. Then she walked across the street to the music people’s house and then that’s all I saw of her. I didn’t see how long she was there or where she went from there. I sort of got the feeling she was next-door-related, but if not, why didn’t she make a delivery here? And what was she delivering? Papers that said the people in this house are assholes? I wouldn’t put it past them to do something that childish, but fine. They can write anything they want to and give it to anyone.

So, you could say that tonight was pretty mellow. Almost soundless. Especially compared to last night. If they could be like they were tonight every night, things would be OK, but you know what? I know better. The nightmare isn’t over yet. There’ll be many more stereos to come. Many more. Every weekend is going to be hell on me, and even during the week, too.

Meanwhile, I’ve got to just cope with it. Maybe if I stand up to what God has ordered for me and just take the noise he so obviously loves to have others inflict upon me, he’ll leave me alone more so when we move. I can’t keep waking Tom up. He said I can, that he’ll listen to me bitch about it, and do whatever it takes to see me through this, which I really appreciate, but he has to sleep and get us out of here. So, come late afternoons, I’m gonna throw headphones on and keep them on till around 11:00. Especially on weekends. Also, I’ve put one of my stereo speakers by the bed again and will sleep to my music if I have to. I picked out an instrumental song of Gloria’s that’s very bassy with no obnoxious shrilly sounds like a sax to play over and over if I have to. I had Tom bang on the wall to imitate what these stereos sound like and found a suitable volume to mask bangers cruising about. I just can’t believe they haven’t woken me up yet! They will, though. I know they will. Tom suggested I wait till they wake me before I sleep to the music. OK. Meanwhile, I’ll be sleeping to it real soon.

The only thing that didn’t make sense was why this car that came twice tonight didn’t play its music louder? Why wasn’t there any music from the house? Why haven’t they gone back to all-night gabbing and yelling? Well, they will. It’s just a matter of time, and I’m sure not much time, either.

Oh, I wish they’d just up and decide they didn’t want to live next to us, move, and not come back to do anything to us or the house! That way we could have some peace around here that just might last till we’re gone. I know better, though, than to have such a fantasy. We have more of a chance of winning big in the lotto than we do of them splitting before we do.

I felt like Tom didn’t handle me and my feelings about all this too well. I mean, he did listen to me and all that, but he made me feel guilty for bitching about it by seeming all bummed and stressed out about it, and also, he punished me by denying me sex for yet another weekend. Or so he thinks. Not only do I have no desire to have sex with anyone other than my fantasies and my vibrators, but I’m also done sexually with him till we move. I’m not gonna go through the pain just yet. I’ll wait and put my crotch through it after we move. Once again, I can’t have sex too often or too seldom, and if we still can’t consistently have sex at least once a week when we move, which I know we won’t, I’m done for sex with him altogether. For the first half of our marriage, I was unhappy with our sex, then I became bored with it. If I’ve never enjoyed sex with him yet, for one reason or another, I’m obviously never going to. I’m sexually hexed and the only thing I can do about it is just not have sex. Period.