I’m listening to the Titanic soundtrack as I type. So far, except for one song, it’s not all that great. It’s too classical for me. I also got a Madonna album that I had on tape that I wanted on CD and a Heart CD. This one is of them in concert and it’s pretty good.

I got up earlier today at 1:00. That’s because I fell asleep earlier last night. Was up till 5:00 instead of 7:00.

The latest battle to get the Bowflex is that they had to verify the number we gave them (what the fuck took them so long?). They say that’s the last step, but we’ll see. They claim they’re gonna ship it Monday, which means we should have it by Friday, but you know that they’ll have to call first to be led by the hand to the house cuz they’ll be too stupid to read a map and find it for themselves. Either that, or they’ll get it here OK, but the thing will be damaged or missing a part. Or maybe both of these things will happen. All I know is that it ain’t over yet. Since we can never just have something and pay for it with money, I know there’s more shit to go through to get the damn thing. Verifying a number doesn’t seem like it’d be enough in God’s eyes.

I guess we’re gearing up for a storm. It’s windy and cloudy out there, but I don’t know how much rainfall we’ll actually get. Probably not much. You usually don’t get much out here till the monsoons hit.

I was going to write this during bingo intermissions, but sometimes I don’t want to be interrupted every two minutes and I just want to write straight through.

They let me sleep till 2:30 today, so maybe I can flip my schedule.

It’s so beautiful out right now, but still too warm to shut off the AC and open the windows. I wish we had a screened-in porch or even just a deck out front.

The fight for the Bowflex has officially begun. Tom called them today. They do ship UPS (and it should’ve gotten here by now) and we know they deliver out here because we’ve seen their trucks pass by, but they couldn’t check on our order because their computers were down. Yeah, I’m not the least bit surprised. With our shit luck, they’ll claim they never had an order for us when they finally do get their computers up and running.

Surprisingly, I got up at 11:30, even though I didn’t crash till around 5:30. I thought I’d sleep till 1:00 or 2:00, but I guess not.

The pinkies should be here by the 3rd, so about five more days to go.

Later...

Shit! They just now started up with their booming. There goes any hopes I had of flipping my schedule over and giving myself a break from the Melatonin. Not if I want to get woken up a few or more times a day. I’m just surprised they didn’t start at 9:30 and wake me up then. I knew they wouldn’t take a few months off like they did when we first bought the land and were in the trailer. Now that we’re here, they’ll never take that long off again.

Later...

Guess I was more tired than I thought. I ended up taking a three-hour nap.

I’m not as excited as I was before about the bingo games. They’re just too fixed and the odds of winning are about the same as the odds of winning millions in the state lottery. They don’t play till someone wins, either.

I am in such a great mood! Today was just great!

First, the traffic wasn’t the nightmare it was the last time, second, the hygienist was sick, third, we saw Mom, and lastly, I found a wonderful slot machine game online to play, too. You build up tokens to turn into money. They even have real casinos online where you play with money for money.

When we got to the dentist, Trisha told me she tried to call me, and we asked her what number she had. She looked on her computer and read me the wrong number, but somebody’s got it somewhere, or else Melanie wouldn’t have called me before. Anyway, neither of us could remember the regular line’s number, so we gave her the cell number.

The doctor didn’t need to readjust my retainers, but he gave me more fluoride toothpaste at my request, and I don’t go back till June 20th.

At Mom’s, I played a little solitaire on Mary’s computer and Evelyn was baking pumpkin pie. She gave me some and said I looked like I lost a little weight and looked good. Well, these online games sure are a good way to keep my mind off of food!

We put special hinges on Mom’s bathroom door to make the door even with the wall so her walker can fit through it.

I’m writing in between games, and I love how a box pops up to tell me when the game’s started so I don’t have to keep checking.

I loved Mary’s wildflowers that she has at the side of her house. I was always hesitant about getting flowers cuz of the bees, but we’ve got enough bees as it is, so why not add a little color to the property, I said? So when we can, I want to get some flower seeds.

I don’t envy Mary for the neighbors she’s got across the street two houses or so down. They were white, and as far as I know, they are owners, but even so - there were a ton of kids and adults out playing basketball and screaming up a storm! I’d be miserable next to them. Those houses are about as old as our old one was and also have single-paned windows. At least Mary doesn’t have windows on the bedroom side of the house like ours did.

It was sooooo nice to not have to go back to that house and those Mexicans! Or blacks for that matter. Instead, I got to return to a quiet, beautiful new house!

We stopped at Circle K on the way home and again, my vibes about Jennifer being gone were reinforced by her not being there.

I am having sooo much fun today! Tom showed me how you can play bingo online for money. I haven’t won, naturally, but it’s fun anyway. Some games are for a few bucks, some for thousands. The only part of it that’s a bore is that they make you wait a couple of minutes or so in between games while they run their stupid commercials. I’m waiting for a game to start right now.

True to form, Paula did call this weekend, but only once. Early yesterday morning.

Also, Dan just couldn’t resist the urge to do a little engine-gunning earlier, but fortunately, it didn’t last too long.

I told Tom I wouldn’t be in the mood for sex this weekend, cuz I was bummed about Velvet’s dying. Not too bummed, though, cuz like I said, I love guinea pigs and they sound really neat, but they don’t do anything.

Back again. Got 2 minutes and 37 seconds before the next game starts. As I was saying, GPs just don’t do anything. They don’t have colorful tubes to run through, no wheels to run on, and they don’t run around and explore.

Butter Rum is definitely pregnant, and I think Oreo is, too. Butter Rum’s further along.

I made poor Tom move the den chair into the living room, but it looked stupid there, so the poor guy hauled it back into the den. Yes, having the chair out of the den really does open that room up and make it look bigger, but I like the chair in there better, cuz where I had it, separated that room from the kitchen. Without it there, the den and kitchen sort of blended in with each other.

Later...

Tomorrow’s my appointment to have my teeth cleaned, as well as to have the retainers adjusted, although this time around, they’re still fitting pretty snugly. Anyway, I am not looking forward to this appointment! I know I’m gonna have a ton of cavities!

It’s been two or three weeks now since there’s been peace up in the sky, and God do I pray for just one more week! I need to flip my schedule once and for all to reset it, and I need to take a break from the Melatonin. I’m becoming immune to it and it’s just not working like it used to. Tonight, so I can get to sleep sooner than 4:00 or 5:00, I’ll take a Benadryl. That should work. It’s just that I don’t want to risk staying up till 5:00, then being boomed awake at 9:30, if they’re gonna be flying again, on the day I have a long appointment. After the appointment, we’ll probably swing by to see Mom, who’s just a few minutes away.

Last night I told Tom about the critter I saw and he said it wasn’t a gopher, which is ugly. He said it’s a kangaroo rat, a desert animal I’ve never heard of before, and he showed me a picture of it online. They need almost no water to survive and basically live off of seeds.

Today, we went out and I showed him the hole where she lives and saw that she’d eaten the food I left her. I sprinkled some more of the animal’s food out for her, then we went back into the house. A few minutes later, we saw her running around. She almost came right up to the house. She came as close as the wash and Tom took a picture. It’s very hard to see any detail, but it’s the best picture yet. She’s a cutie, but not as cute as a regular rat. She doesn’t have the pointy nose that rats and mice have. Her head is a lot like a squirrel’s. She’s got a blunt nose like a squirrel and a guinea pig, and the tail isn’t like a rat’s. Rat’s tails are snake-like, but her tail is broad and flat. Tom said he isn’t sure, but it could be a type of groundhog, although definitely not a gopher. Even so, I’m still calling her Gophie.

This weekend I’m just gonna go ahead and talk to Paula when she calls, and she will call. The message I left her about calling on the 1st of every month is no doubt going to go in one ear and out the other. I left her a message last week, in case I forgot to say so, telling her we were getting a long-distance block put on so she won’t keep pestering me with her “call me” messages. I dropped hints, reminding her not to lose her phone and spend too much money if she’s expecting a pay cut, but we’ll see. I think she’s just gonna keep on ringing up her bill till she loses the phone. I’m amazed at how long it takes her to lose her phone each time around, though, cuz I know I’m not the only one she calls that’s long-distance, and if she’s really looking at only getting $600 a month, then she’ll have no choice but to cut her calls back. God tends to pamper these kinds of people, though. Meaning, I highly doubt, if she really gets cut back that much, that she’ll supplement herself by working. She’ll just have welfare make up the difference, and they’ll be glad to do it, too. As soon as they see someone with a kid come in there, they’re ready to hand out the world to them.

Later...

Still no sign of my outdoor friend. The food’s still out there, too. Maybe she really doesn’t live in the hole I thought she lived in. Anyway, rodents are more active at night. That’s when the food will get eaten, I’m sure.

In my final letter to Dureen and Art, I told them Mom moved in with a cousin cuz her daughter’s having health problems, and that I’d instructed all my relatives out here not to give them any info if they called. What I’m curious to see, though, is if Dureen will have the nerve to knowingly go against my wishes, just like she loves to do, and still send Mom a Christmas card to Mary’s house. See, I know she couldn't care less about Mom and sending her cards. She doesn’t send Tom cards, so why would she care more about her than Tom? It’s all to spite me. That’s all it is.

I have such mixed emotions about Tom. I always have and I know I always will. He’s given me so much, yet he’s taken so much, too. He’s given me a home, security, and the chance to do things I couldn’t do on my own. At the same time, I’ve given up a kid for him, I’ve given up the way I normally deal with those that fuck with me (neighbors/contractors), I’ve changed my clothing style for him, etc. Not that I can ever see myself returning to wanting a child (God, I hope not!) or that God would allow it, and not that I still have the body for the clothes I used to wear, but still, I feel like he’s robbed me of opportunities as well as brought me opportunities.

Later...

Wow! Last year it took me 117 pages to get from the New Year up to today’s date, and just 71 pages this year. There hasn’t been as much to write about since getting in the house, and there are certainly no Mexicans a few feet away to give spy reports on!

What a bummer to know that the freeloaders never read my mail. I highly doubt they’d read it before giving it to the cops. This must mean Larry never read my mail either, despite the bluff. And why would he? I wouldn’t read mail from him. If I got mail from him, I’d put it in the trash to be burned as soon as I knew it was from him, without reading a word. And his saying he sent copies to all kinds of people wouldn’t catch my interest either, cuz I wouldn’t care. Someone could send every single human being in this world a letter saying I’m a crazy asshole for all I care.

It’s no wonder Tom’s as tense and as serious as he is easygoing and relaxed. He is soooo neighbor-conscious! He totally regretted saying this to me cuz of how mad I got, but he told me to shut my office window if I was going to blast my music. He said he knows how much I hate it when others blast their music with the window open, and he certainly wouldn’t want to do things to others that he didn’t like done to him. First of all, when Dan blasts his music, it’s not through an open window. He’s taken the speakers outside. Also, I reminded him that if he wants to be all neighbor-paranoid, worship the ground they walk on, kiss their asses, cater to what he thinks they want, have his life revolve around them, and think the world of their opinions and feelings - fine. But that’s him and not me. I have no more respect for neighbors than they’ve had for me. I don’t give a shit if they can hear me in any way or what they think. As far as I’m concerned, I have no neighbors. They just don’t exist for me anymore. And if he’s so worried about what neighbors think, why is the property still trashed? He’s sending a message saying we’re slobs, which I think would make him want to cry. Or is he just rebelling against me? Is he trashing the outside because I demanded that he not trash the inside? Anyway, I’ll be damned if he’ll control me any more than he already has and try to make me into him. He’s not taking/changing another goddamn thing about me.

The ballerina doll I got at the casino never came with a stand, so I put one of the Giselle dolls stand on a 17” doll, and used that doll’s stand for this doll, which is a 14”. I’m glad I got that second Giselle doll, cuz I really fucked the first one up.

Last night it looked like the pig was dying, all thanks to me and my carelessness. Apparently, the bottle he had broke and he couldn’t get any water for God knows how many days, so he was weak and dehydrated. I put a different bottle in, but that one leaked, so now he’s back to a bowl, and I managed to get some water into him. I think he’ll be okay, although I have mixed emotions about that. Perhaps this is really mean of me, but sometimes I wish he didn’t exist. I’m kind of sick of guinea pigs these days, and he’s so lazy. All he does is sit there, taking up space and making more work for me.

Tom woke up really early yesterday at around 7:00, which left him five hours before he had to go to work. At one point I told him I knew having sex 2-3 times a week was overwhelming for him but did he want to screw tonight anyway? I feel obligated to offer, I guess. Sure enough, he flashed that amused grin. That pleased kind of grin that says, I was hoping you’d ask so I could tease you by turning you down (believe me, though. I wouldn’t feel teased). He didn’t quite turn me down, though. Although I figured he wasn’t in the mood to screw till the weekend, he suggested he go down on me. I forgot that a few days ago I had made a comment about getting off sometime soon as part of my let’s-give-Tom-a-taste-of-his-own-medicine routine. I figured if he was gonna lie and play games, so was I. It gets weird, though. The idea was to tell him I’d cum and make sure I didn’t. However, it felt so good that I wanted to cum, but couldn’t! There’s a simple explanation for it, though. I took care of myself earlier, not expecting him to go down on me. He insisted it was cuz he was out of practice, but he did a fine job.

Lately, I feel like he’s trying to face what he’s done to me over the years in his own way, not that he’ll change by asking that we use birth control or by cumming and not worrying about what risks it may hold. But in his own way, he does feel bad. He’s told me he feels bad and always will, but I know it’s worth it to him. He’d rather feel bad about it, then try to change it. Another thing that tells me he’s trying to own up to his bullshitting me over the years, is the fact that he’s done nothing to deny the things I’ve said lately, like how he never wanted a kid, etc. It’s like he’s quit denying it. Maybe that’s the best he can do to fess up to what he’s done because I sure as hell can’t imagine him ever coming out and bluntly admitting I was right about him and his fears all along. He’s too stubborn for that.

Tom’s gonna put in a sell order to sell some stock to pay bills with. Right now we’re pretty current, but he said we could fall behind.

Dan, Dennis, and Steven! I want to fucking smack you! They’re still affecting our lives! Fucking mother-fucking cocks! When that cock brother of mine had a plaque made up dedicating his business to Larry, one of the lines was: always with you, always with me. I could have it backward, but anyway, when I first read that in a picture Dureen sent me, the first thing that came to mind was - my God! That’s exactly how I feel about the freeloaders. They’re always with me and I’m always with them. Like it or not. I lived to get away from them or for them to get away from me. Well, this is how I feel about these cocks, too. We may not be fighting on the phone with them every day, pleading for them to do their fucking jobs, but even so, they’re still affecting us and they’re still a part of our lives. They’re always with us and we’re always with them. Maybe someday – someday - preferably this year, God will free us and our finances from these degenerate fucks.

Speaking of the freeloaders, I still have dreams about them every now and then, but it’s fine. As long as they’re not a few feet away from me, it’s fine. In the dream, we were still neighbors and we were getting ready to move in a couple of weeks. I was ignoring them and their shit, letting them wonder why they weren’t getting a reaction from me over the music since I knew we were moving anyway.

Yes, those blacks, and the Mexicans as well, will always be with me whether or not I’m always with them. I mean, how could I forget these assholes and the stress, anger, frustration, and hell they inflicted upon me for years and then months? At least now they’re a part of my life in my memory only. I can remember them and be sooo grateful to be free of them and their shit.

I’m utterly stunned how Mr. Bias actually kept his word and dropped it the day they wasted their time dragging me down there to discuss shit they could’ve discussed here. I really thought they were gonna subpoena me. Wow! A cop that doesn’t lie! Hmm… I’m also shocked that these people didn’t send us mail through our old address. Especially the blacks. Yes, people do have the nerve to do that. They would commit the same crime against you they’re accusing you of. I remember how Fran actually had the nerve to bring me up on prank phone call charges while he was doing the same thing to me, till I talked him into dropping the charges. Oh, the winners I used to be dumb enough to associate with!

Later...

I was sitting by my open office window when I heard this metallic-sounding hammering. I thought maybe someone had the nerve to be trying to pry the lock off the shed, but when I went outside I could tell it was coming from a neighboring property, probably next door. They may have resumed their building project. Having no buildings or hills between the houses makes sounds appear closer than they actually are. What was so cool was that I couldn’t hear a damn thing with the window shut. That wouldn’t be the case in Phoenix! When there was hammering next door, I heard it loud and clear, even over fans and music.

I may have a new wild animal friend, but I won’t count on it yet. I spotted her about 30 feet from the office window. She was gray and about the size of the rats. At first I thought it could be a baby jackrabbit till I saw its head was shaped like a squirrel and it had a tail similar to a rat’s tail. At least I think it did. I think it was a gopher. Anyway, it looks like she’s living in a hole by this bush that’s near where I spotted her. I went out and left some lettuce around the hole and a short while later I saw her out again. I went out the front door, saw her leap into the hole, then I placed a carrot and some regular food by the hole. Tomorrow I’ll go see if it’s gone. Hopefully, I’ll see Gophie, as I refer to her, again tomorrow.

I tried to take a picture, but she was too far and too small. I even went online to see if I could find a picture of a gopher, but couldn’t. I ended up reading up on a variety of rodents. I like how they say hamsters are antisocial and possibly evil. They rate mice as sociable but say the males fight. They rate rats as social, friendly, and very intelligent. One rat owner said they loved rats and how they chase strings, come when called (sometimes), and really enjoy human company.

Amazingly, I still haven’t heard from the boomers in the sky. I’ve been sleeping just fine. Maybe they’re on break or something. This peace can’t last forever, though.

Yesterday turned out to be quite a rough day. My allergies just wouldn’t quit. On and on went the sneezing and the runny nose. Obviously, I’m gonna have these vicious allergy attacks every few weeks or so and there’s nothing I can do about them but just live with them. It’s better than deadly asthma attacks.

Tom picked out a portfolio organizer from a catalog for being at the bank for five years.

Later...

Just got our third sales call of the week. It was the Arizona Republic calling. By June we’ll be back to getting several calls a day and I’ll have to turn the ringer off. I could tell it was automated too, cuz of the delay between when I picked up and when the person started talking. I told them not to call again, but I’m sure they will after a few days. And the thing is that they never remove numbers from their system, and also, they give it out to their friends so they can put your number in their system, too. It’s like a mailing list, only it’s with the phone. Now that someone knows someone lives at this number, more people will be given the number. If the Phoenix number is still out of service, it’s still being called many times a day. Once it does get reissued, I sure feel sorry for whoever gets the number.

I still haven’t heard from the people in the sky. I don’t know what’s up with that. I still don’t know why we didn’t hear from them during October, November, and December.

Once I get my book done and out to some publishers, this will be a real test of God. This will tell me if he’s all about stopping me from doing things I wanted to that I couldn’t handle, or if he’s about stopping me from doing anything I want to do. Period.

Soon, Tammy, Dureen, and Art will hear from me one last time. Along with sending the pictures, I will make myself clear as to why I don’t want any contact for the last time, simply because I like to express myself and not because I feel I owe them an explanation. I don’t owe these people shit, and except for Lisa, I don’t regret dumping them. I never felt better. I only wish I’d done it sooner. I can’t stand these people. I just can’t stand them. And I can’t associate with Lisa and have to be reminded of these sick fucks whenever we talk. I don’t want to know Bill, Larry, Tammy, Dureen or Art exist, other than to send them this final piece of mail. I never again want to be a part of their abuse and tall tales. I could never again associate with such dishonest control freaks like Dureen and Art, nor Larry with the way he tried to take over the family’s affairs and with the way he and his folks ganged up against Tammy. Yes, Tammy’s a shit parent, but Larry didn’t just want Lisa for the sake of getting her away from Tammy. He wanted to replace his son and to spite Tammy. And I could never again associate with Tammy and her bullshit either. She lies, exaggerates, and is the moodiest hypochondriac I know.

If I crossed paths with most people that have burned me in the past, I wouldn’t even pay them the time of day, but these people have fucked me up and over so badly for so long, that I still burn with rage at the mere thought of them, and if I ever saw Bill, Larry or Ronnie - I’d beat them beyond recognition in a heartbeat. I hate bully cocks like them that think they’re oh so tough! There’s nothing I’d get off more on than to show these “big tough men” that no, they can’t hit everybody and no, they can’t beat everybody. Some people, including women, could kick the shit out of them and that includes me. I have the rage to do it and do it well. I know I could. I’d bet my dolls on it. In this day and age, they’d never stand a chance against me. Hell, I could take them all on at once with one arm tied behind my back, and oh how I wish I could be the one to teach these little fucks a valuable lesson about what happens when the wrong person is hit/fucked over by them. I’d make them so terrified to even think of fucking with anyone the way Ronnie used to shove me around and the way Bill’s hit Lisa.

Oddly enough, though, I don’t feel extreme rage when it comes to my folks, even though they abused me both physically and mentally more than anyone else ever has. Maybe it’s because of their age. Or maybe it’s because I know that Larry, Bill and Ronnie would be more of a challenge for me, even if I know I could kick the shit out of them easily enough. Meaning that although I know I could beat them all, I could beat my parents with just one punch. The others would take four or five punches. Maybe it’s that. I don’t know. I just know that if I could change two things in my life, I’d erase the resentment I feel towards Tom for lying to me about the kid, and I’d erase my anger towards these people back east and just forget about them. Literally, forget them.

Below are excerpts from my letters.

To the shit sister:

The biggest thing about you that really made my blood boil was how you let Bill go on abusing you and Lisa for years before you finally put your foot down, even if it was in a half-assed kind of way since you do allow Bill access to your kids. Even you yourself admitted that you were miserable for years and wouldn’t address it. I don’t need experience as a parent to know that your job as a parent was/is to protect your kids from abuse, and you DIDN’T! There’s absolutely no excuse for your letting his shit go on like that. Using your childhood is a lame, pitiful excuse, too. You should’ve kicked his ass and thrown him out the first time he laid a hand on her and you should’ve made it the last time he laid a hand on her. Sometimes two wrongs do make a right and sometimes you do have to literally fight for justice. Turning the other cheek doesn’t always work. These violent people need to be shown that if they hurt someone, someone’s gonna hurt them. Instead, you sent this pitiful excuse of a person the wrong message. You might as well have had a big sign made up saying: beat my daughter Bill. I’ll let you get away with it with no taste of your own medicine to come. Like I said, you should’ve kicked his ass, and if you couldn’t do it with your bare hands, you should’ve used a weapon which could’ve and would’ve been justified to the cops - he attacked my daughter and I did what I had to do to get him away from her. Violent people like Bill can’t be helped or changed and yes, someday he’s gonna hit the wrong person who’s gonna make him be afraid to even think of hitting another person (if he lives) but you should’ve been the one to teach him his lesson. If we had had kids and if Tom had ever laid a hand on them, I’d beat him beyond recognition as would be my duty as a parent and I’d never let him near me or my kids again, and I don’t care what the courts said. And you were worried about how I’d be as a parent in the past. Well, obviously all your worries over me were just a cover for your own worries, doubts and failures as a parent, huh? Well, rest assured - I wouldn’t have been a perfect parent who never made mistakes, but I wouldn’t have let my husband beat her year after year either! It’s not your fault Bill’s the way he is, and it’s not your fault that our pitiful excuse of a court system is as fucked up as it is, but that’s all the more reason why we need to take responsibility. What I mean by putting your foot down in a half-assed kind of way was that you should’ve ignored the courts and not let Bill near the kids, even if that meant you had to run and hide. If the courts won’t do their job, then we the people need to do it for them and pick up where they left off. If the courts told you to kill your kids and then yourself, would you do it? And what are you? Attracted to aggressive, abusive, violent men? Where’s your self-respect, girl? I see a nasty pattern here. Dick was violent, Joe was violent, and Bill was. Is Mark gonna hit you and the kids too? And if so, how many years is it gonna take for you to fight back? Well, we can’t undo the mistakes we’ve made in the past, and we all make them. All we can do is learn from our mistakes. Next time a man lays a hand on you or the kids - make him sorry, show him it’s a definite no-no, have self-respect and respect for your kids, and get rid of him! And Tam, I’m sorry if what I just said sounded cruel, but it’s the truth!

To the shit excuse for parents:

I can’t lie to you folks and tell you when or if you’ll ever hear from me again. You could hear from me again in a few months, a few years, or never. I just don’t know. I certainly couldn’t call you and resume a relationship with you if I couldn’t be accepted as I am and cuz I just couldn’t trust you. Not after you’ve broken your word to me a zillion times. You can’t keep personal and private stuff between us. Or any disagreements we have. It was fine when you’d tell people things like “Jodi and Tom went to Vegas,” or “Jodi likes to sing and her nickname’s Mystery,” but to tell them “I’m sick of hearing about the same things and things I can’t relate to. I don’t give a damn if she can’t get pregnant. That’s her problem, I have no empathy for her, and I’m sick of hearing it” is wrong. I can see if you had simply told people that we had a disagreement, but to get into details, half of which you made up along the way, was wrong. Our conflicts were never Marty and Ruth’s business, Larry’s business, or your friend’s business, either. They should’ve been kept between us. If I wanted them to know certain things, I’d tell them myself. Hell, you told the whole town of Longmeadow I jumped. You made me feel like it was more important for you to get sympathy than to protect my privacy. And the fictitious story about me chasing you, Doe, with a hammer (or was it a knife?) When I was somewhere between 15-20 was ludicrous. You had so many people scared to death of me for no reason. No one needs to be or should be afraid of me unless they try to harm me or my husband. Anyway, I already made my feelings clear, and if you read them and if you understood a word I said, you’d know how I felt. In the long run, though, it really doesn’t matter one way or the other what you do or don’t understand or agree with me on because as long as we don’t resume the relationship we had in the past, we won’t clash with each other.

Later...

Tom left a note saying to wake him up at 9:00. So early? Does this mean we’re gonna get together tonight? And are we back to having sex 2-3 times a week? Gee, I can’t wait!

I can’t help but have conflicting emotions about his not cumming, just as I do about God’s deciding to take my reproductive system into his hands and make my decisions for me regarding that.

I don’t want a kid, but I resent God for robbing me of my choice.

I don’t want a kid, but I resent Tom for robbing me of a normal sex life.

Until a professional told him there was nothing that could be done and it was truly out of his control, I’ll never forgive him for denying me his cum, so to speak, when I did want a kid. And he makes me feel like such a cursed freak, too. I’ve never heard of anyone like him. I swear he’s the only one in this world like he is. I know I’m right, just as I have been so far, about his not wanting a kid and that that’s the basis for his not cumming. And I know he’ll never go to a doctor about it. If it were up to him, he’d never discuss the issues of cumming or kids again in his life. But what I still don’t get to this day, is why go to such extremes to see that he doesn’t become the father he never wanted to be and still doesn’t want to be. The only reason I can think of is that he knew I wanted a kid when we met and just didn’t have the heart to tell me he didn’t want that and therefore insisted we use birth control. I think his refusal to cum became a habit he can’t break. Or can rarely break. I’m sure that long after menopause, he still won’t cum. He’s too used to the way he is and too pleased with it. He obviously wants to be the way he is, whether or not there is a pregnancy risk. I can tell by how comfortable he is with the way he is. How many guys are like him, and can’t help it, and are happy with it? No one! Just him. I tell you, there’s no such thing as a case like he’s got. Not medically, anyway. His situation just doesn’t exist. You either can’t get hard to begin with, or you can, and you can cum just fine. No one gets hard but can’t cum. The question is - am I really the only one with a guy who can get hard, but won’t cum?

Anyway, I just try not to think of it, and all the ways God and other people have made my decisions for me or controlled me in any way. I’ve never been with anyone that was remotely normal in bed and I never would be if I went through a zillion more people, be it women or guys. I also never had a say in my reproductive system and I never will. God put the lock and chains on that the day I was born and declared it off-limits to me. All I can do is just live with these facts. They cannot be changed, and even if they could be, I don’t know that I’d want to change them. Not just because my heart is no longer in changing them, but because of my fear of God’s retaliation against me for going against his wishes for me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s never to mess with God!

Just fired up my computer to cover today’s events, then I’m going to listen to music, maybe sing a little, then hopefully I’ll crash. Benadryl ought to help with that. Yeah, my allergies have been going berserk. Tom says he feels bad that he took me out on such a windy day, but it started before we went out. I think the dust in Mary’s house contributed more to it in the end than the wind did. She only cleans once a year at Christmas time. And when she cleans, I think that only means neatening things up, or rearranging them and lessening some of the clutter. Not dusting and vacuuming. I doubt she even owns a vacuum.

Driving through that horrendous city sure brings out the rage in me, but first, we enjoyed seeing Mom. Evelyn wasn’t there when we arrived because she had to go to the dentist. We showed Mom the pictures we burned on the disk we brought her, and Tom set about to connect their two computers, but Mary didn’t leave the stuff he needed. I guess she hadn’t gotten the parts yet, cuz something came up.

Mary, who came in about a half-hour before we left, saw the pictures, too.

I played around with their electric dartboard and saw their new birds. They have a blue parakeet like the one we had and a green one. One of them has a really nice cage.

Dave came in on our way out, so we quickly said hello to him, then headed for the grocery store which was a circus and a half. It took us forever at the check-out, thanks to the slow, stupid Mexican at the register. Non-whites were plentiful compared to the whites, which now seem to be the minority. The blacks and Mexicans totally ran the whites out, or so it seems. They help to run us out.

After the grocery store, Tom ran into Staples, but as I figured, they didn’t have ink refills for my kind of printer, so he’s going to order them online. I’m sure I’ll have to remind him and push him to do it a dozen times before he finally does.

Anyway, as I’ve said before, one of the things I hate about driving in the city isn’t just all its traffic and construction, it’s the fucking assholes that creep! No one can drive the speed limit in Arizona, I swear! Not even in Lavene, a tiny scum town just outside of Phoenix. It’s either a poor Indian tribe town that hasn’t made money with casinos or a Mexican town. Either way, like most scum towns, it ain’t white. Anyway, this couple in front of us had us dragging at fucking 15 miles below the speed limit for miles. When we finally got the chance to pass them, I fingered them out of frustration and Tom blew a fuse over it, getting all paranoid about getting shot for it, etc. I’m not saying this world isn’t full of sensitive poor losers, but what are the odds of that, huh? If we all went around shooting those who flipped us off, gave us dirty looks, or swore at us, there’d be none of us left. I told him I’d keep my fingers down from here on out, but I’ll be damned if I’ll kiss society’s ass and not vent my anger and frustration when I want to. I’m not gonna live walking on eggshells because of society’s poor precious sensitive little feelings. If they can’t handle the things I say and do - tough shit. If you can’t handle a finger or two, you’ll never make it in this world and you don’t belong in this world in the first place. You piss me off, you’ll hear from me about it, and if you can’t deal with it - that’s your problem.

Another quiet, stress-free, peaceful weekend. How many cars were next door at the Mexicans this weekend? Hmm…Ten? Twenty? Fifty? Hee, hee! Well, they didn’t have anything to do with my life!! Not the quiet blue-green pickup, nor the bass-banging Ranchero!!!

My pee is green. I’m pretty sure it’s cuz of the water pills I’ve been taking, cuz the further away I get from taking one, the clearer my pee is. It’s turned out to be more of a help than I thought it would be when it comes to losing excess water, although it doesn’t do shit for pre-period boob soreness. Even more amazing - I woke up at 121 pounds today, but have done nothing lately to lose weight. Again, could it be connected to these water pills? I’d guess so.

We screwed today and he let himself in there again. I was surprised.

He installed a picture viewer on my computer and it’s great. It allows me to sift through them faster. We can’t bring the screensavers to Mom tomorrow because we need to find certain files to make them run on their computer. We are going to bring them a CD of pictures, though.

Scuttles was so funny earlier. Even Tom’s amused by the rat’s behavior. Ratsy was out chasing me again, along with Scuttles, and they both were chasing this strip of paper I’d dangle in front of them like a kitten would. It was so cute.

Getting pretty hot out there! We were outside (he still is) and I cut up some boxes for burning.

As expected, he’s shown no desire for sex. I knew that having sex like we did 2-3 times a week wouldn’t last long. I knew he’d get sick of it. Personally, I think it was all a show. I mean, I think he thought he could tease me big time by thinking we’d have full-time sex regularly, then bye-bye full-time sex and hello to part-time sex once again. Little does he know he didn’t get the bummed out feeling he no doubt hoped I’d get. I’m ever so grateful to be back to the part-time sex. I have no appetite myself. It’s just old and predictable, and it bores me to tears. It’s hard to get turned on by him when I know he isn’t all that turned on by me. I just can’t do the one-sided sex like I used to be able to. He also says he’s worried about having grocery money for the next two weeks. Well, he’s 40 pounds overweight and I’m 20 pounds overweight. I don’t think it’ll kill us to cut back on food for a couple of weeks, but like I said, he’s just looking for excuses. I told you that if we had more time there’d be some other problem and there is. And once we’re doing better financially, he’ll be sick or sore more often. And like I also said, it’s OK if we have part-time, cumless sex. I just hate the lies and excuses. It’s OK that I can’t have a kid cuz I don’t want the burden and responsibility that’d bring, but at the same time, I still resent him for taking away my chance to find out if I could’ve conceived naturally. Because of this stubborn, controlling, scaredy-cat, along with the help of God, I’ll never know for sure. Just have vibes. My woman’s intuition tells me no, I wouldn’t conceive even if he squirted regularly. I’ve sensed long before I ever met Tom that I couldn’t conceive, and I didn’t with the stupid shits I did it with back east.

Paula left a message at 5 AM our time. I guess she’s calling on weekends now. I wish she’d call more like once every month or two, but at least she’s not bugging me several times a day like Andy used to. I don’t miss the long, boring phone calls with Andy. It’s not that he never had anything interesting to say, I just don’t miss his selfishness and his only coming over when he wanted something. Andy was a pest and a half.

Later...

Tom and I watched The Others live. I’m amazed they haven’t had an episode yet with childbirth in it.

Didn’t hear from Dan yesterday or today. I’m amazed at that, too.

Played with Scuttles on and off and now I’m making Tom and I a baked potato.

Not much to update on. No booms today and no Dan yesterday. That doesn’t mean I won’t hear from Dan tonight, though. It’s still early enough. If he does bug me, I’ll just throw my music on.

We’re going over to Mom’s on Monday to do some computer work for Mary and to visit her. We’ll go before Mary and Dave get home. That way the dog will be outside barking its ass off, and not inside to scare the shit out of me. I pity Mary’s neighbors if they hate barking like I do.

I made them screensavers, as I mentioned before, which Tom says they can’t wait to see. Tom also decided he wanted to make them a digital photo album on a CD, so I picked out about 110 pictures of us and things associated with us, like pictures of the land and pets.

Well, they found us. Yeah, we just got our first sales call. When the phone rang I saw it said “out of area,” and because of that and the fact that they left no message, it had to be sales. Another six months to a year and we’ll be back to getting many calls a day. I doubt the call was from the Bowflex people, cuz if they were calling, it’d be because they had something important to either tell us or ask us, and therefore, they’d leave a message, I’d think. Tom said we could expect it in a week, but no way. Money’s never enough, in God’s eyes, when it comes to us getting things. I know there’s gotta be a big song and dance and a big fucking deal involved in getting it. Us getting anything like that always takes a fight, and of course, when it does get here, there’ll be some problem. Something will be damaged or missing.

No booms in the sky today, but I’m sure I’ll be hearing from Dan any moment now. His prime time is in the early evening when he knows most people are more likely to be home. I’m surprised he’s been as quiet as he has been the last few weekends.

Tom got the animals the biggest bail of sawdust I’ve ever seen. It’s got to be a 50-pound bag.

I’ve also never seen an animal love me as much as Scuttles does, and I’d have to say I haven’t loved any animal as much as I love him. He’s so cute, loving and playful. At one point, while Tom and I were sitting on the couch with him, I had to get up for ibuprofen for a headache. After I did, Scuttles jumped down off the couch to follow me.

They’re booming around up there again. At least they let me sleep till 10:30 when the alarm went off. I got up right before Tom came in with my coffee. I had him get me some since he was planning on stopping at Circle K, anyway. They didn’t have the white chocolate caramel I love so much, so he got the flavor they replaced it with - chocolate mint. Boring.

It is with utter shock and amazement that I can say I finally received Paula’s pictures! She really wasn’t putting me on. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t know it was her, cuz half her face is covered with sunglasses. But knowing it’s her, and looking at the slight cleft in her chin and the shape of her lips, I can see it’s her. They were taken down in Florida. She’s smiling and waving in one picture, against a grassy and pine-treed background, wearing a black, sleeveless shirt or dress with what appears to be a pink bikini top underneath. The other one, the one I like best, she’s not smiling and is holding a small clump of pink flowers. She’s wearing the same thing in this one too, but has a better background cuz there are palm trees behind her. Her hair appeared to be pulled back and was obviously dyed a deep, coppery red.

Now if only I could get a picture of her from a decade ago with her long brown hair! And no sunglasses to hide half of her face!

Tom said that yesterday, he saw that snake in the same spot. He said he couldn’t tell if it was dead or not, but it probably got run over.

I don’t know if I mentioned this yet, but a foul smell would occur and disappear in the second bath for a week or two. We’re not sure what it was, but lately, we haven’t smelled it.

Freddie’s been having no trouble climbing up and down. I haven’t actually seen him screwing any of the ladies, but I hope he has and got a litter or two started.

Speaking of screwing, I’m to get Tom up at 8:00 so we can “try” to screw. Oh, God! I am not looking forward to this shit. I know he’s not going to go in me. In fact, I’ve even stopped using KY.

Later...

Dan’s on my case again, distracting and annoying the fuck out of me with the engine-gunning. What are we gonna do with you, Dan? Huh? Just what are we gonna do with you? God, get this fucker out of this state! Next door is a dream come true; I don’t know they exist. Same with the renters (so far) yet every day, be it for a sec or hours, I’m always reminded of Dan’s existence. It may be better than having a pack of loud and lazy freeloaders on my shoulder, but still, I don’t like it. I wish he’d just shut the fuck up. Having no mountain, hill, or wall between us and this cock is a factor in letting the sound hit the house so easily, just as it would be if we had a wall that was too close to the house, but he’s got some monster of an engine in at least one of his trucks. Totally the kind a desperado would have. Yeah, well I’m sick of hearing it. I’d like to see this little fuck give me one week, just one week, off from the fucking shit he’s been pulling, so obviously trying to get anyone’s attention.

Later...

What a big mistake, not using the KY, although I naturally lubed up in just a minute or two. He stayed hard and went in there, but it goes without saying that he wouldn’t let himself cum. I’m kind of surprised. I started to really wonder if our sex life was over. We’re not any richer, so I’m sure it’s because I’m getting closer to my period and less likely to conceive, not that I could anyway. I swear, though, he acts like an old man at times in bed. After just a minute or two on top, he plopped down on the bed as if he’d just run ten miles. He also seemed suddenly to be depressed, but he didn’t say anything.

Another quiet spell in the sky lately. I thought for sure that they’d wake me up around 9:30 yesterday and today, but I haven’t heard a thing. Yeah, but how long will it last? Just this week, I’m sure. By next week, they’ll be booming by regularly, waking me up. I still can’t seem to get up as early as I’d like to. I’ve been getting up around 10:30 but would prefer to get up at 9:00.

Later...

Tom’s home now. He stopped at his mom’s. Her blood sugar is too low. Nora, Ray and Jennifer were there and he says that Nora and Ray looked 100 years old. Ray has liver disease and Nora recently had a mild heart attack. Jennifer’s the opposite of what she used to be, from what Tom told me. Instead of being the boisterous loud-mouthed brat she used to be, she was rather subdued.

Anyway, after we chatted, he went out to burn some trash, and now he’s unwinding for bed.

When we were chatting, we were discussing how this house was built. I guess I misunderstood some of the details and got some of them wrong, so let me run through it again for the record. It takes 3-4 days to build this house. First they build a metal frame which they then build the house on. After the frame is made, they lay down the floor and run the plumbing underneath. Then they do the electrical, windows, walls, cabinets and doors. I’m not sure if the inside wall boards go in before or after the roof is put on, but anyway, after it’s painted, on goes the roof. It was cool to see them put a roof on a different house when we were there (they work on several houses at once). The roof is suspended on a crane that moves and places it on top of the house after its paint dries. Then they paint the exterior and roll the house through on conveyor belts to where they put its axles and wheels on. When we saw our house, it had plumbing, walls and floors, but no windows, doors, or cabinets, and some electrical. It wasn’t even painted.

As planned, we got that male mouse we wanted at the same place we got Scuttles at. We were shocked to see that they had a huge cage with so many breeds of rodents living together in it. They had hamsters, gerbils, mice, and a guinea pig that squeaked bloody murder. I don’t know how these gerbils and hamsters get along when Teddy Bear and Gizzy didn’t. Maybe it’s because these were raised together. There were no rats or ferrets there. I’m not surprised, since rats and ferrets are the most aggressive of the rodents, although hamsters aren’t always sweethearts themselves. They also had some fancy mice that were alone in their own cage. They didn’t have nearly the number of rats this time around, and they had both pet rats and fancy rats, according to their sign. Pet rats don’t get as big as fancy rats, though they’re all pets. I was glad that none of the rats really appealed to me, because giving my attention to the two I’ve got is enough. When one of them dies, I’ll get another rat or two.

Anyway, we got some crinkle paper in a box for them to nest in, which was cheaper than the mall where Tom used to get them. Also, the fancy mice were on sale, so we paid just $3 for Freddie. Freddie’s as tame and lovable as all fancy mice are, walking up and down my arm. I already took his picture. He’s a cross between brown and gold. He’s pretty much what I was hoping to find. I wanted something different than the gold mouse and the black and white mouse I’ve got, for more color variety for breeding. It’ll be interesting to see what colors and markings they create. He’s definitely a male, too. They didn’t fuck up on his sex. You can see the two little balls very easily.

Last night I wish I had videotaped the rats. Scuttles was out playing with me, jumping and climbing all over me, but you should’ve seen Ratsy! He was chasing me and play-nipping me like a cat! He’d chase the hem of my nightie as I rolled on the floor.

Our only other stop was for coffee and soda at Circle K. Although it was only first shift when we got there, I got the immediate feeling that Jennifer no longer works there. Just a vibe I got, but we’ll see if I ever see her again.

Once we got a couple of miles or so from our house, there sure was a cool sight waiting for us in the middle of the road. I saw, from just two feet away, a diamondback rattlesnake, which is now coming out of hibernation. It moved off towards the side of the road and watched us. It was coiled up defensively, ready to strike if need be, but I guess he knew deep down that we weren’t gonna get him, cuz he didn’t even shake his rattle. Not even when I threw an empty Tic Tac box out at him. It landed an inch in front of him, but he gave no reaction. Just continued to sit there and watch us. Snakes, tarantulas, lizards, coyotes, jackrabbits, and roadrunners are what you mostly see out here. Anyway, we almost ran over the snake, and I wanted to see one of these up close so Tom backed up, careful not to run it over, and we checked him out for a while. Tom said they can only strike half of their body length. This one was about 4 feet long. They’re really cool looking, but I wouldn’t want a pet snake. I wouldn’t fancy the idea of having to feed them live rodents, which is what they eat. Also, I like smart, entertaining pets like rats. The rats interact with people just like puppies and kittens do. Even someone who hated rats couldn’t deny they’re cute to watch and smart. Anyway, Tom says that he’ll take a shovel and whack any snake’s head off that he sees on the property. Although you should never get bit as long as you’re careful and watch where you’re going, we have a bite kit that Tom and I checked out and went over. It’s for snakes, scorpions, bees, black widows, and jellyfish. Believe me, though, you won’t run into a jellyfish out here! I’ll bet most people back east wouldn’t believe me if I told them the animal out here that’s most likely to attack. They’re the hardest to see and for every snake, there are millions of them. They’re ants, and out here, they spare you no mercy! Little red ants and big black ants - the most likely to get you. The most dangerous, though, is the rattlers and I think there are copperheads and other dangerous snakes out here too, although they’re big so they’re easy to spot. They’re also slow-moving and they won’t chase you down. They’ll try to get away from you. The most harmless - coyotes and tarantulas. Coyotes are too timid to get near you and tarantulas are virtually poisonless. You can just walk up to them, pick them up, pat their fur, and put them down, not that I’d care to. They’re very slow-moving, too. My personal outdoor favorites, though, are the jackrabbits, roadrunners, and coyotes.

Tom left for work an hour ago.

I spent most of the weekend backing up my picture files. I converted my BMP pictures to JPGs before saving them on floppies and was able to get between 15-27 pictures per disk. It took about 20 disks. Even though Tom does regular backups on CDs, I felt it wouldn’t hurt to have another backup set that I did on floppies. I was mainly after the harder-to-replace pictures, like the ones taken with the digital camera. If I lost copies of the photos I scanned, I could just rescan them. I also backed up most of the wallpaper pictures I got online.

I showed Tom that bridge I saw out front and he told me it’s a cotton gin. Makes sense. There’s nothing but farms out towards the front of us, and the more I looked at it, the more it did look like a gin.

At 2:00 this afternoon, Scuttles decided it was midnight. He must have because he was really having a ball. He not only wanted to be affectionate and get attention from me, but he also wanted to run around the house, too. He loves to nestle in my hair and make it a real “rat’s nest.” I started straightening it naturally, the way I did in the 80s before there were straightening irons, so it was easier to brush the knots out. I straighten it by putting elastics down the length of it, every inch or so apart. Because it’s so damn thick, it takes forever to dry.

Paula called yesterday. We talked about the house, the weather, and that guy she’s seeing. She asked more questions about us and the house this time around. She says that for $70 a month, she’s renting a computer she doesn’t know how to hook up to the Internet or its printer. That’s Paula for you. Oh, and now she claims she mailed those pictures out Friday, so her story’s changed again.

Tom’s still playing games. Yesterday he conveniently had body aches and thought he was getting the flu. He said he wondered if the nasty fumes from the shit he used to clean paint spatter off the speakers in the den did it, but I think it was an excuse to get out of sex.

Today he couldn’t stay hard, and while I was doing him by hand, he suddenly heard fictitious car doors close by and had to get up and check it out. Meanwhile, I heard nothing like that, and again I pointed out to him that he should come clean with me and quit making lame excuses to get out of sex. I can’t stop him from playing games, but I can help him with his fears. If he’s so sure I can conceive and doesn’t want that to happen, he should just tell me so we could discuss some sort of birth control method. But no, he says, that isn’t it. Maybe he’s a nut who’s become like me, he says. Sensitive to sounds. Then he gets back into bed saying, I’m still here, aren’t I? And then he tells me that he’s trying. But I don’t want him to “try.” No one should have to “try” to get into sex. If it doesn’t come naturally to him, then maybe he shouldn’t be having sex, especially with me. Then I asked him if he was sick of me and felt he needed a fling or something, but he swears he isn’t sick of me and doesn’t want a fling. He once told me he and his ex had a threesome once with a woman and that screwed things up, I guess. Anyway, he says he’s never had the problem of not being able to stay hard before. Part of it’s God, who just has to interfere with my sex life no matter what. As I reminded Tom, I’ve been sexually cursed since day one and if I got a new man or woman every year, each one would have some kind of problem or weird quirk. He says he thinks his problem is over money, then went on to explain, although it makes no sense to me, that it stresses him out more to be barely making it, rather than behind. Well, I still think all this is about his enjoying playing sex games with me and his fear of me conceiving. He still swears he isn’t afraid of that, but I don’t know. I suggested, just in case he is being sincere and he does truly have these problems that are out of his control, to just wait till we’re back on track financially. Then, if he’s still having trouble getting hard, he can decide if he wants to go to a doctor (although I think he should’ve gone to one six years ago). I highly suggested he tell the whole story if he does go to a doctor. Not just the trouble with staying hard, but the lack of cumming, too. Let an expert give their opinion. He agreed he’d think about a doctor and tell them everything if he went to one, but I know Tom S. The man would never in a million years breathe a word about his hardness trouble or lack of cumming to a doctor or anyone, and you want to know why? Because I still think it’s his own will that’s doing it, both consciously and subconsciously. He’s had “problems” in bed ever since we met, so why would he wait this long to do something about it if he didn’t want things the way they were?

I wondered for a moment if this weren’t meant to be to get him to go to a doctor, for once and for all. Yes, if he’s sincere, maybe having two problems will give him the gusto to go to a doctor.

Nah. He’ll never go to a doctor about it. Not if his life depended on it.

I can’t help but feel conflicting emotions about it. On the one hand, I’m pissed that because of him I can never see if I can get pregnant naturally if I decide I want that in a few years, and on the other hand, I don’t want that, and God would never allow it to happen, naturally or not. I’m still glad we never had a kid in the past. I’m sorry I went through all the emotional shit over it that I went through. It was miserably horrible. I’m sorry for every rotten thing he and I have ever been through, but I’m not sorry things turned out to be the way they did so I could live life and do the things we’ve done in life. With a kid, I’m almost positive we’d never have been able to get out of Phoenix. At least not till it was older. I also wouldn’t have been able to do, learn, grow, mature, and experience the things I have in life.

We talked about the possibility of moving to a retirement community like Sun City or Sun Lakes when he gets to be at least 55, and I may like that for various reasons. For one, as much as I love this big house in this remote area, it’s a little too far out for old people who need to go to the doctor more often. If we were in one of these places, we could get to doctors more easily and not have to wait an hour for an ambulance, should we need one.

Also, they have rules about barking dogs, but there are not that many in these places. Just like most houses in the city do have dogs, most old people don’t have dogs. Those that do tend to have little dogs like poodles. Not two big vicious collies.

They probably don’t allow people to have pools, but that’s OK cuz they have country clubs you can walk to, and I wouldn’t be afraid of being attacked by a big dog walking the streets there.

I’d want a smaller house when I got older and had a harder time getting around and doing housecleaning, and in a place like that, you’d never have to worry about subsidized freeloaders moving in next door. Oh, I’m sure it’d be just my shit luck to move in next to the old lady whose grandkids came over practically every day and screamed outside, but at least I could do something about that, and since the mother would live there, I wouldn’t have to worry so much about her taking my noise complaint all wrong and making sure the kids got even noisier.

Anyway, I hope to be here for a long time. At least 10-15 years. I hope we’re happy here as long as we’re here, but like I said, that’s not very realistic. It’s bound to get noisy sooner or later.

I discovered Mocha, one of my mice, dead today. Tom thinks she had tumors, but I don’t know. The way she was shaped made me think she was just fat and may have even had a litter before we bought her. We buried her but didn’t bother with a marker.

Tom’s suddenly so sorry for “doing more bad things to me than I have to him,” as were his words. I don’t know how sincere he is, but anyway, perhaps that’s why he suddenly wants the male mouse we’ve been talking about getting. I know he enjoys checking out the animals, and he says he loves all his pets, even if he thinks rats are mean-looking, but we know that the animals are mainly for me. I just don’t get how he can say, year after year, that he’s so sorry for “being a failure in bed” yet not do anything about it. All he does is say he’s sorry. Meanwhile, he just keeps on doing the same old shit.

I guess it’s going to be easier said than done as far as giving Tom a taste of his own medicine. I just can’t do the things he does without feeling guilty. I just can’t jerk him around about sex or about anything like he has to me. Besides, jerking him around sexually, or being predictable, won’t faze him. I guess I’m just forever at his mercy in bed. I either put up with the never-ending predictability and lame excuses in bed, or I don’t have sex at all. At least we’re back to sex in part-time spurts like I knew we’d be, so I don’t have to deal with his shit too often.

We discussed the possibility of moving to a retirement community like Sun City or Sun Lakes in about 15 years.

Tom was a big hero at work last night, fixing stupid people’s mistakes. I guess they threw out stuff they weren’t supposed to throw out. I swear that’s our life’s destiny - fixing other people’s fuck-ups.

I’m not looking forward to all I know we’ll have to go through from here on out to get the Bowflex. Just because they said we could have it, and just because we intend to make payments on it, doesn’t mean we can just have it. It’s gonna be a big fucking deal to get and we’ll have to fight tooth and nail for it. There’ll be a problem with delivery, or it’ll get here damaged, or parts will be missing, etc.

I washed some of my older doll’s clothes.

I also made five screensavers for Mary, Dave and Mom. They said they were curious to see how I do those, so I did up a saver of us, scenery, flowers, dogs and cats, and various animals. No mice or rats, though, since they don’t like them.

I think I forgot to mention the scorpion Tom met last weekend. He was moving the shed onto the frame he made for it of concrete he poured, and he came across it then. He took some cool pictures of it, too, before he killed it.

I don’t know why, but I didn’t get up at 9:00 when my alarm was set to go off. Instead, I got up at 11:00. I don’t know if I subconsciously turned the alarm off or what happened, but amazingly, they let me sleep till then. I haven’t heard any booms at all today. Tom mentioned a change in the jet stream. Maybe that caused them to alter their course.

I checked into Luke Air Force Base last night online, which is where these jets are coming from. They claim they mostly fly in the daytime but do have some night flights, which are usually back by 10:00. They didn’t mention how many days of the week they fly. There was a number to call about noise complaints. What for? They’ll just tell anyone that bitches the same thing they’ve told others that have bitched - hey, we have to train these people, so tough.

I was lucky enough to have them wait till I’d gotten up before booming by today. At 11:00 and 4:00 I heard a whole series of rumbles. Some were mild tremors and others were loud and thunderous.

Later...

I don’t fucking believe it! Thanks, God. I just knew it, though. They just boomed by. At 9:00 at night? They’re gonna train people in the dark at night? See, it’s only a matter of time before it’s a round-the-clock thing. It won’t matter what my schedule is, eventually, cuz anytime I sleep will be hit or miss. I checked outside to make sure it wasn’t thunder I heard since that’s what it sounded like, but the sky was clear as can be. Nothing going on at Dan’s. Just a minute’s worth of engine-gunning a couple of hours ago. Why am I so cursed when it comes to noise and sleep?! I’ll never be free of it no matter where I go.

He’s gone. Meanwhile, I am gonna get him good sexually! If only he knew just how sexually doomed he is to be in a month from now. I’ve had it with the sex games! Now it’s his turn to get a taste of his own medicine, and believe me, I’m gonna make every lame excuse in the book and do nothing but bitch and complain about how his doing this or that turns me off in bed, and this distracts me, and this stresses me, etc. Let him feel like the little freak he’s made me feel. Let him feel unappreciated in bed. He isn’t the only one who’s quit cumming, that’s for sure.

Tonight he had to have ice cream, something he knows his stomach can’t tolerate well, so he could have an upset stomach and an excuse to avoid sex and laze out in front of the TV. The fucking TV turns him on more than I do, and I don’t care how beautiful he always tells me I am. Of course, I’m sure part of it is because I made the excuse to bail out of the same old bullshit sex last night. It’s like he has to give me a taste of my own medicine when I make excuses to get out of sex and do the same thing right back.

Anyway, his 30 days are up and we’re having less sex and there are certainly no squirts. Yeah, I knew it, the lying SOB. Why does this guy have to lie so much when it comes to sex? He doesn’t lie about other subjects. Why can’t he just come out and face his fears? See, this isn’t just about his not being able to own up to his fears, it’s a game to him. It turns him on to turn me off, and boy let me tell you, I am turned off. I’ve never before felt this turned off. I’ve lost any ounce of sexual interest I could possibly have left for this man. I just have no desire for him in bed. It doesn’t detract from how much I love him, but by God, I’ve had it with him sexually. If we never had sex again, I wouldn’t miss it. He’s so scared and he’s so stubborn when it comes to sexual changes and he’s so obsessed with his games, that he can’t even show a little appreciation for me in bed even just once in a while. It’s a miracle I don’t want a woman. A woman not just inside my head that I fantasize about. I’m just so sick of the idea of sex with anyone. It’s not new and exciting anymore and hasn’t been for years.

Anyway, the liar told me that in 30 days we’d be screwing 2-3 times a week and he’d cum once a week. Well, in my letter to him, which I’ll give him on April 7th, I’m gonna let him know just how I feel for the last time. And I mean the last time. I’m tired of his sex lies and games in bed, I refuse to fight with him over sex in this house from here on out. Also, he is not going to control my reproductive system. Only God can do that. He will not con or manipulate me out of having a kid if I choose to do that someday. I won’t hesitate to use a sperm donor if that’s what I have to do, cuz this guy will never change, but fine. Now he can have his way; he can stay cumless and never hear me bring it up again. He’ll never have to deal with it. He can just stay the way he so obviously wants to be. Even so, I think I’ll always have some bitterness and resentment toward him for what he’s done to me. I mean, I may not want a kid right now, thank God, but how dare he fucking tell me in the past that he wanted a kid, yet refuse to do anything to help himself or to let himself be helped so he could make the necessary changes in order for me to conceive naturally if I truly could like he’s so sure I can. He had a lot of nerve saying he wanted a kid, then I try to help him and suggest he do things to help himself and see a doctor, then he turns around and bitches at me for trying to change him. That’s really fucking cold and insensitive. Meanwhile, I’m the one going through the painful testing. He won’t talk to no one, he won’t try stimulants, and this tells me something quite obvious - that he doesn’t want to change. He wants to be the way he is. Anyone who didn’t would try to get help. Not make up bullshit lame excuses and say that not talking about it, which is really a form of not dealing with it, will be their magic cure.

Later...

Today hasn’t exactly been a thrilling day. I couldn’t get to sleep till nearly 6:00 in the fucking morning, they fucking woke me up at 9:20, then when I got up with the alarm at 11:00 I was exhausted. I still am, too. Meanwhile, to top things off, fucking Dan just started with the engine-gunning. This cock cannot go one solid week without putting on a show, can he?

I started to get all psyched at the letter we did receive, believe it or not, from the Bowflex people saying we have been approved for the complete machine, but as I figured, there’s always a catch to good news. They wanted three references. One related and two personal. The relative one was fine, cuz Mary’s reliable, but as for personals, all we could think of was Paula and Kim. If they call these people, though, we can kiss the Bowflex goodbye, cuz I don’t even have Kim’s current number (I made one up), and you never know what a stupid, brainless idiot like Paula will say.

Again, can’t we just have something without the song and dance? Isn’t paying $53 a month for three years enough of a payment? Can’t we simply just have something?

Later...

Due to the fact that I haven’t heard any booms since being up, I wonder if I may have dreamt that they woke me up this morning. After all, I was kind of having a nightmare. I don’t remember what the nightmare was, but who knows? Maybe I dreamt it, maybe I didn’t. Tom was even insisting that he felt a slight shudder last Saturday morning at 8:30, but that I must’ve dreamt them waking me up an hour later, cuz he didn’t hear or feel a thing. I don’t know. I’m still going to try to get up around 9:00 regularly anyway, both because I want to and to be on the safe side. That way I don’t have to worry about being woken up. Sundays I’ll sleep in till they take my Sundays, too, and if they’ve flown on Saturdays I’m sure they’ll take that, too.

Another thing I’m not sure of is whether or not that was Dan’s engine and music I heard earlier, or was it the tractors that grade the roads? Those sound a lot like someone was revving an engine, only what I heard was softer, suggesting it was further away than Dan. God knows the roads did need grading after the rain. Also, the bass I thought I heard didn’t have a beat, and some big vehicles tend to sound bassy from a distance, so I don’t know for sure what I heard.

Yeah, the rain has finally quit. We had a lot of rain, too! It rained steadily for over 24 hours. No leaks!

Looking through the binoculars out the living room window, I discovered a bridge off in the distance. I don’t know what it is. I’ll have to ask Tom. I don’t know if it’s a bridge that cars drive over, or if it’s just a scenic walkway for people, which would seem a bit odd in such a low-populated area. I wonder where it goes and what’s under it.

I can see a flashing light from my office window at night way off in the distance. I’m pretty sure it’s where the crop duster’s airport is.

Scuttles is so cute in the way he sticks his head through the bars to have his head patted. He can get out as far as his shoulders. Ratsy decided to take an afternoon stroll. I was surprised he wanted to come out and run around at 3:30, being the nocturnal creature he is. He ran around the living room, the dining area, the bedroom, and the bathroom, then went home and back to bed. It still amazes me how these rats go home when they’re done exploring. Most animals wouldn’t do that and would run from you when you tried to get them to bring them home.

I called and left Paula a message letting her know that the Bowflex people may call her and that I used her as a reference.

I can’t wait to finally have that! At least I hope there are no more problems getting it from here on out. I may have lost a few pounds and toned down certain bulging areas lately, but man do I look awful! I’m flabby, sagging, and furrowed, not to mention a good 4-5 inches too big in most spots. I really hate my face and neck more and more. They’ve really gone to hell. I have ugly furrows running from the corners of my lips down, and a double chin from hell. Tom doesn’t think I have a double chin, but I say my neck’s definitely sagging and needs some picking up. He doesn’t even think I’m fat. He thinks my weight’s fine and all I need to do is tone up. I wish that were the case.

Later...

We were just out burning some trash. We could hear an owl hooting nearby. We also heard, but only for half a second, a thunderous rumble that sounded exactly like those jets. Are we getting into night flying now, too? God, I hope not!