They’re back to booming again. At 10:30 I heard a slight boom. Not the kind that’s really thunderous that you can feel. This one didn’t vibrate the house. I’m surprised they’d start up again on the last day of the month. I thought they’d start up on the 1st or the 15th.

Dan only gunned his engine a few times, but even so, I’d like it better if he’d get out of here. The fewer people around, the better. If he’s still here this late in the year, I doubt he’s going to be leaving at all.

My allergies are going off starting last night, but fortunately, they’re not constant sneezing fits. Not yet, anyway. I’m just having a few sneezes here and there. Not the kind where I sneeze 20 times in a row and have to jump up to blow my nose. My nose isn’t runny. My eyes were itchy, though. I had to put some eye drops in.

When I got up I got Houdini out of the closet and put him in the tank with the lid, but as is the usual case for two hours after I’ve tanked him, he’s all wound up. I took him out a couple of times and let him run around on the bed till he tried to jump off the corner closest to the closet.

There was a Gophie by the snake hole and I brought out some food. This time she waited till after I’d stepped out the door before diving into the hole. That’s getting brave.

Maria called again today but she didn’t leave a message. Yesterday, there was a fourth call. A private number with no message. Please, God, don’t let it be that Clara got our number! Even if she did, though, I suppose it wouldn’t harm anything. Larry wouldn’t want to talk to me any more than I’d want to talk to him. I don’t think he’d even bother leaving me a fuck you message after the mail I intend to send. If anything, he’d give the number to his mommy and daddy and have them do his dirty work for him. They’d call to bitch about it. Since they probably couldn’t get the number, though, and therefore can’t call, it’ll be interesting to see if they call any other people with my last name about the letters or if they send me a letter to the old address. I just wish we’d hurry up and get that printer! I don’t want to send Larry and his associate’s mail before Doe and Art’s, cuz then Doe and Art may be too afraid to even open any mail from me.

Later…

My allergies are acting up worse, so I popped a Benadryl. However, I’m sure it’ll fail to dry up my nose and stop my sneezing, as usual. Instead, it’ll dry up my mouth and cause me to take a 1-2-hour nap. Oh well. I felt like I had to do something. So much for the cutting down on the mice space experiment. I swear you could put me in a sterile environment and I’ll still have allergy fits for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Later…

My allergies have been making me miserable all day and I wonder – am I going to have this every 2-3 weeks for the rest of my life? And if not, what will the problem be that replaces it? I’ve racked my brains trying to figure out the cause of it, but there’s no pattern. I just can’t see a cause. That leaves only one thing – God. God’s the cause of this and I hate him for it!

I decided to spread my cleaning schedule out from 3 days a week to 6 days a week, so it won’t seem so overwhelming. Here’s my plan:

Mon. - master bath
Tues. - liv/my office
Wed. - den/his office/guest
Thurs. - second bath
Fri. - kitchen/utility
Sat. - laundry
Sun. – bedroom/retreat

It turned out to be the quietest Memorial Day weekend I’ve ever experienced out here. The Saturday morning boom car stereo was the only thing I heard. Even Dan’s place was dark and quiet last night. Makes me wonder if he finally fucked off and headed for Indiana.

I can just imagine what must’ve gone on at our old place. Must have been quite a riot, but then again, maybe not. The noise was aimed at me for the most part, so maybe they happened to simmer down once I left, but I’ll never know. I’ll never know how the Hs feel about living next to them, either. I figure there are not too many possibilities. They either don’t mind having their yard trashed and the noise to listen to (if they are up to their same old tricks), or they don’t like it, or they shut up and kept their garbage to themselves. Maybe it’s a combination of things. Meaning, maybe they are quieter, but still noisy by most people’s standards, and the Hs just don’t care.

Again I woke up at 121 pounds. Maybe that dream will turn out to be a premonition, but at the rate I’m going, if I were to be 115 pounds, that won’t be till November. It’s funny how I gained and started losing weight at the exact same time of year as the last time. The first time I gained weight (after quitting smoking), I started gaining in October and didn’t start losing until May. Same with the second time around and I also gained the same amount each time I gained weight. I peaked at a little over 125 pounds. Since I can’t muster up the willpower to eat 1000 calories a day, I upped my workouts and workout every day now. I even worked out twice yesterday.

I have a dress that I don’t need to wear a bra with when I’m around the mid-120s because it’s a snug fit at that weight. Now that I’ve dropped a bit, it’s not as tight around the chest.

Later…

Not only has my body gotten used to shitting at 121 pounds, but I just had to up and take my second dump of the day. What I wonder is – will I go back up to 125 pounds before my period?

I forgot to mention that last week I finally received a newsletter from the doll company I got some of my cheap dolls from. The dolls I got at K-Mart had a card you fill out for their club, but all their club is newsletters about other people’s collections. Like I really care? I don’t want to meet or talk to other collectors. I thought they’d send catalogs or coupons or something like that.

Houdini’s so funny. He was in his usual spot in the closet when I got up. I put him in the tank and didn’t bother to put the lid on it. I knew he could jump out, but I didn’t think he’d bother. Well, he did. He jumped out and right into the big cage.

Later…

And he jumped back out of it too, so now he’s in the tank with the lid on.

I just went out to feed our many outdoor critters. Tom said that when he was out yesterday, he saw one on each side of the house and says there are at least 6 of them around here (I know I should spell out numbers the professional way, but I’m writing a journal, not a book, so I won’t be so formal and proper).

Later…

This phone has rung the most it’s ever rung in the last couple of days. I just got an out-of-area call where the person never spoke, but I know someone was there because I could hear them before they hung up on me. I forgot to block our number when I called Sandy’s parents. I hope to hell they don’t have Caller ID.

Maria and the stupid Mexican Elena called, too. Maria’s this New York-sounding woman who thinks we sell water. Again she called saying she was low on water, and after the 3rd call from the Mexican, they finally left a message. Not much of one, though. They just made this sigh-like sound before hanging up. I could hear a radio or a TV on in the background, too. Getting 3 calls in one day is a lot, till the sales calls come in a dozen a day like they used to. I still don’t understand what it is with these people, though. Maria made it sound like she’s talked to the guy she was looking for before, so why doesn’t she realize that Tom’s voice is different? And what about these Mexicans? Shouldn’t they not recognize Tom’s voice?

It’s funny how Mary and Dave have been in this house 3 times in the 5 months we’ve been here, yet they were never at the Phoenix house in the 6 years we were there.

Later…

Oh, please! Just when I thought Dan was gone for a few months, it starts an engine-gunning spree.

Anyway, Tom’s looking into a really cool program that lets you make your own fonts. I want one that’ll let me write out the letters which I can then scan into the computer. However, having a dead scanner doesn’t help. Something’s really been cursing my computer this last month or two, and one of the many things to get fucked up is the scanner. Tom said he hasn’t figured out what’s wrong with it yet. Well, I hope he figures it out soon, cuz I have a really funny idea. The idea is to forge Andy’s handwriting, something I can do very well, from samples of stuff he’s written in a few journals of mine, and write a letter to his mother. No, I’m not gonna say anything mean, violent or sexual. I’ll just write the kind of letter Andy would really write, and then laugh over knowing how confused he’ll be when he hears about the letter he never sent. Then he’ll really wonder about his pot brain!

Thank God I’m not in Phoenix! I’m surprised it hasn’t been a bit musical around here yet this weekend, but I’m sure someone will blare their music today. Either Dan will blast off, or that boom car stereo will drive by.

Anyway, Tom’s doing his favorite thing – watching TV. He did do computer stuff, though, too. Since we didn’t screw Saturday or Sunday, I guess that means we’ll have to go through the bullshit motions today. He’ll wait till he’s been up for 10-12 hours, though. He said he got up at 6:00, so I don’t expect him to make a move on me before 4:00.

I changed the animals earlier and realized it was a waste of time putting food and water outside of the cages when all Houdini has to do is go home to eat and drink. If he can get out, then he can surely get back in, and Tom verified this today. When I got up at 10:00 he was home, but Tom said he wasn’t home earlier. So, he can come and go as he pleases when he’s in that cage, but until tonight, I have him tanked.

Later…

Wow! It looks like he may not touch me at all. If he doesn’t, I’ll have mixed emotions about it. A part of me will feel like he doesn’t want me anymore or find me attractive, although who could at this day and age? A bigger part of me will be glad to get out of something so planned and predictable. If we do screw, I’ll have mixed emotions about that, too. I’ll be bored with the same old, same old, but will feel there’s still a little bit of attraction still lingering. He tells me I’m beautiful, but I think that’s just another one of his lies. What’s beautiful about me? The freckle on my shoulder?

I wrote another letter to Mom.

Maria called telling us that the water’s getting really low, so don’t forget to pick some up! Some idiot in this area, who obviously doesn’t have a well, left this message yesterday. How stupid can they be? I mean, didn’t they realize that Tom’s voice wasn’t familiar, or does Tom sound exactly like someone they know?

Later…

He finally brought up the subject of sex. Right now he’s taking the 2-3 hours he likes to digest (it used to be 1) before we screw, and waiting till the very end of his day. Maybe he wants to finish himself off in bed. That’s another thing – the sleeping together hasn’t happened and I doubt it ever will. I put the ball in his court to see what he’d do and he hasn’t said or done anything differently. I don’t think either of us wants to sleep together that bad and I also think we’re so used to the way things have been that it’s all the harder to change.

God, give me the strength to come up with an excuse every weekend! I’d just feel so guilty, although I know I shouldn’t because he wouldn’t miss the sex any more than I would. I’m just so sick of the same old, same old. It’s so damn planned and predictable and boring me to tears. I can see why so many couples cheat, only it’s for different reasons than ours. I’ve got a predictable, dry dick here that’s boring me to tears, and other women have guys that smother them. Also, they bitch about how the man gets it over within a few seconds and doesn’t take the time to do it slowly. Yeah, that’s what I’ve got with this man here, but again, the reasons are different. Other women’s men are in and out because they’re horny and want a hole to squirt in. This man’s in and out because he’s too scared to cum in a place that he doesn’t know whether or not a kid could result in.

Later…

I was right. He didn’t go inside. I asked him if it was due to my being too cramped out last week and told him that I wrote how I suspected this would happen and thought it was quite a coincidence. He swears he wasn’t copycatting me and said he wondered if my subconscious led to his not being able to go inside (meaning, maybe that caused me not to put my heart into it), although he admits he “jumped the gun” the first time around by not having me do him by hand longer. The first time around when I went to warm him up he got fairly hard, but as soon as he went to go inside, he was his usual dry, limp self. The second time around, although I thought I was doing my best, I just couldn’t get him into it and hard, so I stopped and told him I thought it was hopeless and that I was sorry I couldn’t do a better job. He then went on to say that he wanted more variety, I won’t hurt him as long as I stay away from his balls, don’t give up, and he wants me to be happy. As I bluntly told him, he couldn’t make me happy sexually, because he couldn’t and wouldn’t make the changes necessary to make me happy, but that that was OK because his happiness is more important than mine. I want him to be himself and do what makes him happy. I’ll sacrifice sexual happiness to please him because he’s worth it and I love him. But he wouldn’t be happy doing things that’d make me happy. What would make me happy would be to not know what day of the week we’re going to screw, yet I know it’ll be Saturday or Sunday, but probably Sunday at the end of his day. It’d also be nice if I never knew when he’d cum, but instead I always know he won’t. Even so, and like I told him, I know how important it is for him to be himself and do what makes him happiest and most comfortable. It’s still hard to get used to a man needing so much foreplay, I told him, and that I’ve got to keep in mind how different he is. Then he said he’s just him. He’s both. He’s himself and he’s different. We’re talking about a man, who like a woman, needs a lot of foreplay, has a lower appetite, and rarely cums.

Tom left an hour ago to meet Mary and Dave at Fry’s. They should be back around 1:30. I have mixed emotions about this arrangement. I’m grateful for the new TV, but I feel a little insulted by her insisting Dave help carry in the TV when I’m perfectly capable of helping my own husband.

Haven’t heard the boom car stereo since yesterday morning, and I doubt Dan ended up blasting off. If he did, it was for a very short time because his lights weren’t on for long at all. I was surprised.

Time to go out and feed the Gophies.

Later…

OK, I just fed them.

Houdini didn’t stick to his usual routine last night. He doesn’t usually escape till after I go to bed, but at 9:30 I caught him running around in the retreat after I had come out of my office. He was hiding under the walker (I’ll store that in the trailer). I put him back in the big cage and later found him in the closet. I put him back again and he stayed in the cage till 9:00 this morning. He probably came out looking for me wondering why I was late. Animals are pretty sensitive to time. I upped the alarm from 9:00 to 10:00 cuz I couldn’t fall asleep till 2:00, and he was probably wondering why the alarm didn’t go off at 9:00. How I know he didn’t escape till 9:00 was because Tom said that’s when he last saw him. When I got up at 10:00, he was under the walker. I had blocked off the retreat by putting a towel across the bottom of the door, but he simply clawed it away, so I made that room safe for him to hang out in. He was wound up, as usual, for a while after I tanked him, and even tried to bite Tom.

Later…

The new 25” TV is here. Sure beats our old dark 19”. It was on sale for $200 and fits in the entertainment center perfectly. Mary and Dave visited for about 20 minutes, then they took off for the casino to win another thousand dollars of money they don’t need.

Later…

Tom’s still watching the new TV. He did take a break to race his car on the computer, though. Good, this, along with his cut toe and cut face, will delay our boring sex. I don’t know how he got the cut on his toe, but he obviously got the cut on his face from shaving. I know Sunday evenings are his favorite time to screw around, but I still say I’ll get to get out of it altogether cuz of I was cramped out last weekend and not in the mood. I just wish he’d make his excuse before we bother to get into bed and go through all the bullshit motions. And I swear he wants to wear my hand out at times, making me do him by hand forfuckingever! Long after he’s hard he still has me doing him by hand, probably to make up the difference for screwing for only a few minutes, and I’m like – come on, buddy! Let’s get this over with. You’ve been hard now for ages.

It’s amazing how many channels they’ve got! Fifty channels alone for music is total overkill. I’m surprised they don’t have a channel just for commercials. A channel for current commercials, one for old commercials, and then one for each type of commercial. A channel for car commercials, one for having babies, etc.

When I got up this morning, the first thing I did before getting my coffee was go into the closet to pull Houdini out and put him back in his tank. Again, he didn’t fight me. It’s amazing how he stands still and lets me pick him right up. I don’t put him in the big cage till around 8:00–9:00 and he doesn’t bother trying to escape till after I go to bed because he wants to play with Ratsy during those hours.

Thank God I’m not in Phoenix now! I’ll especially be thankful I’m not there on Monday.

Tom told me that somewhere in the Midwest or the East, a 13-year-old boy was sent home from school for being disruptive. A while later, he returned to school with a gun, said something to his teacher, then shot him in the face. That’s your all-American kid for you. It seems that once we hit the 90s, kids went downhill. That’s because the parents got worse and worse. I asked Tom if the kid was white and he said they didn’t say. Not that white kids aren’t bad enough themselves, but this sounds kind of blackish to me. I think shooting up teachers is a black thing. And the sad thing about it is that this kid’s not gonna be tried as an adult. It’ll be put in a school similar to Valleyhead, although it’ll probably have its windows barred, and it’ll be free by the time it’s 21.

I didn’t bother weighing in this morning or taking measurements like I have been for the last six Saturdays or so, because I know I’m still right about where I usually am. I know I’m 122-124 pounds, and my thighs are 22-23, my hips and tits are about 37, and my waist is 29-30.

Got another doll poster for my office wall yesterday. An Indian girl doll that’s pretty nice. I like having these doll posters. It not only makes for good decoration, but it’s almost like having these extra dolls that I don’t have and I don’t have to dust them or worry about breaking them.

Later…

We haven’t even been here six months and we already have a boom car stereo driving by regularly, just as I predicted. Thanks, God. Thanks a lot. Sure, it’s not nearly as loud as the boom car stereos that’d drive by in Phoenix, and sure, we don’t have to listen to people screaming, balls bouncing, and dogs barking, but the point of the matter still stands – I don’t want to know others exist when I’m in my own home and I don’t want to hear anyone else’s music but my own. This time I saw the car. It was a red car that came up from the front bedroom side of the house and drove up Meadow Green, the bedroom side of the house. As far as I could tell, it passed the renters. Of course the drivers were cocks and of course they just had to be blacks or Mexicans too, from what I could tell. Tom still swears that by the end of June, the stereo will either be broken, or they’ll get sick of driving on these roads if they want to keep it working. But it’s now become rather obvious that they live here. I’ve heard them too many times now for them to be just visitors. They live here and no one who’s into attention-getting stereos like that is going to just give that up, nor can they necessarily just up and move as soon as the thing breaks. Moving takes money and if they just moved into the area, and obviously they did, they’re not going to want to move again so soon, so they’ll just keep fixing the fucking thing. Although, I don’t believe Tom when he says they’re that sensitive. I think they can stand up to these roads just fine and even if they couldn’t and the stereo broke and they didn’t fix it, some other boom car stereo will drive by regularly enough. God will see to it. It’s in my cards. I’m destined to be forever stuck with these stereos and eventually, they’ll get tougher and tougher and louder and louder, so it’ll be as loud as it was in Phoenix without having to drive right up to the house. The good thing about it is that because they have to drive so slow on these bumpy roads (some of them are graded well enough to go 65 MPH on and some aren’t and you have to creep) is that I’ve got a good two minutes or so warning when they’re approaching. I can hear them for a couple of minutes before they get up to the house. Plenty of time to be waiting for them. What’s to say they can’t have a little meeting with me? Hee, hee! I told Tom I wasn’t kissing ass out here and I meant it. I’ll take care of anyone or anything that becomes a problem around here. I lived how others lived in Phoenix, but this time around, we’re gonna do things my way. So, come July 1st, when they’re still banging by like Tom says they won’t be, I’ll arrange a private little get-together with these cocks.

Tomorrow, Tom’s going to meet Mary and Dave at Fry’s Electronics store and pick us out a new TV all the while they get badgered and harassed by salespeople. I opted to stay home since I can’t stand crowds and pesky, pushy sales reps. Mary and Dave are going to waste their time and gas following Tom home to help him carry in the TV. I appreciate their taking the time to be helpful, and I know Mary’s old-fashioned in the sense that she thinks men should do the carrying, but I’m just as capable as any of the guys. I can help my husband myself just fine.

Later…

Our blasting boys haven’t been by again yet. They probably went into the city to do some drug dealing or to get wasted at a friend’s house, but they’ll return at some point today. At least they won’t be in and out every 45 minutes like the Mexicans were. The only thing that makes no sense is that so far I haven’t heard them more than once in a day. Well, wouldn’t I have to hear them at least twice if they went out once; when they left and when they returned? Maybe I was listening to music and missed one of their attention calls.

When I called Tom in to check them out as they were going by the bedroom, he tried to convince me that he couldn’t hear their music, but he had to have heard it. Why does he do these things; try to tell me something is when it really isn’t, or vice versa? He’d have to be deaf not to hear it, even if it wasn’t nearly as loud as in Phoenix. He also tried to tell me a few times he didn’t see or hear the sickos when I knew that couldn’t be.

Later…

I just looked back, and if this is the same car I’ve been hearing, we heard them on April 15th, then again on May 7th, then nearly every day since the 21st. Sounds like someone started visiting someone then moved in with them, or was having a place prepped and now they’re fully moved in. This proves Tom doesn’t know what he’s talking about if it truly is the same stereo, but we’ll see for sure over the next few weeks. I think it’ll be an everyday thing until I put a stop to it, and believe me, I’m only too happy to do so!

Later…

I can’t believe this dryer doesn’t buzz when it stops. It’s a pretty good dryer too, that you’d think would have that, but it doesn’t.

Tom’s dozed off on the couch right now. Let me guess – tomorrow evening we’ll get together for a boring, predictable round of sex, huh? And let me guess some more – he’ll either not want to go inside, or he will, but he won’t cum, right?

Life may be full of surprises, but our sex certainly isn’t!

Later…

Haven’t heard anything else, but the long weekend is still young, and the day is still early. If people are gonna blast music, they’re likely not to start till nighttime when the weather’s cooler and they can open their windows and doors to let the sound out.

I can’t wait to finally send these pictures off to Tammy, Doe and Art and to be done with them. I just want to rub this new house and things like that in their faces, and I can’t wait to send off Larry and his associate’s mail, too. Wish I could be there to see his reaction! The last time I said I was sending shit to people he knows, I bluffed him. So, just when he thinks I wouldn’t do that, here he’ll be getting two phone calls all about the mail they received. I just hope they read it to him or at least tell him the contents of the letter in enough detail. And I hope to hell he hears that tape, too. I wonder if he’ll try to do something about it like look up those with my last name in Phoenix and send them mail. Well, if he does, he’ll have an awful lot of mail to send out, cuz there’s a zillion people with my name. He does what he does, but nothing he can do can get to me the way I can get to him. What can he do? Take me to court? Have me thrown in jail? The funny farm? There’s just nothing he can do. This isn’t mail between non-related people where a white person refers to blacks and Mexicans using nasty words, after being harassed by them with noise. The police are gonna give him the same brush-off they gave me if he goes to them as when I tried to call his local police department and bitch about him making prank calls to me. They’re less hesitant to get involved when it’s family, and all they’ll do is tell him what they told me – she’s on the other side of the country. The cop I spoke to did say he’d call him and tell him to knock it off, but I don’t believe for a minute that he really did. Of course, there’s always the chance that Larry recognizes my handwriting on the envelope, although I tried to disguise it, and ditches it right then and there. Who knows? He may even be afraid to bother opening things with no return address. Whatever happens - the ball’s now in my court and I hold the threat over him. He’s completely powerless against me. There’s nothing he can do to ruin me or hurt me in any way, but there’s plenty I could do to him.

Later…

Not surprisingly, Dan’s place is all lit up. If he’s blaring music, I wouldn’t know it, cuz I have my own on right now.

Thank God I’m not in Phoenix!

Later…

Just added Jenny’s father to my mailing list. Yeah, I went online and looked up her last name and of course Jenny wasn’t listed, but her father was. He’s in the same house they’ve been in for nearly 20 years in West Springfield. Her father has got to be really old now. I know her folks were older than mine. He must be in his 70s. Anyway, the idea is to piss both Jenny and Larry off with my sending the letter to him. I not only hope Jenny will read the letter, but I’m sure she will unless her dad gets so disgusted that he tears it to shreds. Anyway, I bet on the odds of her reading it and wrote at the end of the letter: shame on you for reading your dad’s mail, Jenny! The worst thing that could happen to me for this is that they send me a letter about it to our old address which will get forwarded, of course, and which I’ll have returned to sender. I’ll recognize their handwriting, and of course, they wouldn’t put a return address on the thing. God, on the other hand, is gonna get me good for this, but it’ll be worth it.

The Memorial Day weekend is starting early from what I heard. When I got up at 10:00 and turned off the fan I could hear the faint beat of music and I was like – you gotta be kidding me! Thanks, God. Thanks a real lot. I expected music tonight, Saturday night and Sunday night, but Friday morning? Anyway, it only lasted two minutes and again, I’m virtually certain it was that boom car stereo Tom says can’t live out here. Well, it probably doesn’t or else I’d hear it every day, but it sure visits a lot. The reason I’m sure it was a car is because of the way the volume faded in and out and because it only lasted a couple of minutes. Usually, when someone turns on a house stereo or radio, it’s for more than a couple of minutes. Again, I’m pretty sure it was coming from the front, too. I just thank God we’re not in Phoenix, but of course there wasn’t too much of a ruckus from the Mexicans last Memorial Day weekend. That’s because they weren’t there yet. I remembered after my last entry that they didn’t move in till June 1st. So, in less than a week they’ll have been freeloading it for one year. Well, in the house, that is. I’m sure they’ve been on welfare and ripping the state off for years.

I see Gophie now, so I’m gonna go give her a bite to eat.

Later...

Gave her some lettuce this time around. It was last week’s lettuce for the animals that are just starting to wilt and it’s more than she can eat, but maybe the rabbits will eat it, too. It’s biodegradable, so it’s OK. Whatever doesn’t get eaten will dry up and disintegrate like old leaves. She just popped up out of her hole and is attacking the lettuce now. She’s gotten to be more trusting. She used to stay in her hole for about fifteen minutes after I’d return to the house after dumping her some food, but now she’s back out in five minutes. I put the lettuce by her hole, but not too close to it in case there’s a snake that may jump out at me, although I doubt she’d be near where a snake was. Still, I always take precautions. Anyway, it’s cute how she jumps out of her hole, runs and grabs a piece of lettuce, then runs to eat it by her hole so she can hop down into it if something dangerous comes by.

Speaking of a certain indoor pet that just won’t stay home, Houdini is the perfect name for him. Sometimes you’ve got to have a pet for a while to come up with the best name for them. Well, Houdini certainly suits this guy. I put him in the big cage last night, along with Ratsy, figuring that even though he is growing, he could still escape, but probably wouldn’t do so till after I went to bed. This time, though, I put food and water outside the cage for him, lifted Ciara’s outer skirts, and blocked off the retreat and my office. Sure enough, I found him in his favorite spot in the closet when I got up, then I put him back in the big cage. He didn’t fight me, either. He let me pick him right up. Because rats are normally nocturnal, including this one, I figured he’d sleep and not escape again till tonight, but I was wrong about that. I walked by a little later and found him sitting by his cage, and boy did he want to play! He ran around his cage and climbed around and under me. I put him back in the cage and found him out again when I was on my way to pee. I went and peed, which he had to follow me to do, then decided it was time to tank him. He’s still wound up too, running on the wheel. I don’t know what’s got him all hyped up today.

There’s a quail hanging out by the bush the iguanas used to live under. Now they seem to be living under the bush by the bedroom.

They still haven’t updated Carol’s schedule and I don’t know if they’re going to do it later today or if they’re going to do it later this month. The last time they updated it, they did it on the 26th. Maybe they don’t do it the same day every month.

Later…

My God! Today this rat’s as dayturnal as Gophie and gerbils are. I just put him back in the big cage to see what he would do. He escaped instantly and ran under the bed, which I shooed him out of, and into the closet to his favorite spot behind my guitars. Then I made sure he heard my footsteps walking away, then quickly and quietly I tiptoed back and lay on the bed where I could see under the closet door. I wanted to see if he’d stay there and go to sleep, or if he wanted to explore. As I figured he would, he stuck his head out from under the door and saw me right away. Then I went into the closet cuz he had run back to his hiding spot. I sat down on the floor and he walked up to me. Then I picked him up and re-tanked him. He’s still too hyped up to go to sleep anywhere.

I forgot to mention the dream I had earlier. I dreamt I weighed 115 pounds. Is this a sign of weight loss to come? Well if it is, it hasn’t happened yet cuz I’m still 122 pounds. The thing about it is that I dreamt about gaining weight before I gained it the first time around, after quitting smoking. I think I had dreams about losing it too, before I lost it, although I can’t remember for sure. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but we’ll just see what happens. At this point, especially after working out now for nearly 7 weeks, I think I’ll always bounce between 122-125 and that I’ll never lose the 2 inches from my thighs and the 3 inches from my tits and hips and the 6 inches from my waist that I’d like to lose.

Later…

This has been the most erratic period I’ve ever had, with such a slow start and a slow ending. Never have I had such intermittent cramps, bleeding and spotting. It starts and stops, starts and stops. Since when do I spot for a few days after my period? That’s something I usually do before my period. Maybe this is when God has something go wrong so I need a hysterectomy. Or maybe this really is normal for me. Who knows? I still don’t get why it was so important to God that I ended up with a man if he knew he didn’t want me to have kids. Not that I regret meeting and marrying Tom for an instant, but why was my true love fated to be a man? Why couldn’t I have had what I have with Tom with a woman? I’m sure I’ll wonder about this for the rest of my life.

I think I’ll go see if the new schedule is posted yet, but I doubt I’ll be able to get online. Between noon and 9 PM, getting online is impossible.

Later…

Cool! For the first time ever, I see three Gophies out there! Two big ones and a baby one. No wonder all that lettuce got eaten so fast.

It’s a scorcher out there now at 112 degrees. Gonna try again to get online to get the schedule, but I doubt I can get on now.

His mom offered to pay for us to have the trailer moved out here, making it more possible. How generous! That’d be wonderful of her.

Later…

Yes! Office Killer and When a Stranger Calls Back are on this month (got the schedule a couple of hours ago)!

Tomorrow I should be able to get Carol Kane’s TV schedule for June. Please be on, Office Killer and When a Stranger Calls Back!

UPS delivered Tom’s award from work. A giant portfolio.

Larry’s not going to be a happy camper. Again, I acknowledge and admit the fact that this was very childish and immature of me, not to mention a waste of time if he doesn’t listen to it, but I couldn’t resist making that tape I mentioned where I told him just what I felt about him. If he does listen to it, he’ll be shocked at some of the things I had to say. I also looked up D online and found two listings in the area. The one in East Longmeadow is Sandy’s parents, which I verified by calling last night. I called and a woman answered. I asked for Clara and she said, “Yeah,” then I mumbled Larry and Sandy’s names and hung up.

I’m sure she called them to see if they were OK. There was an Agawam listing for a James D and I’m pretty sure that’s Sandy’s brother. They’ll both be getting similar letters all about what a fucking asshole Larry is. I know they’ll tell Larry that they got their letters. That’s a done deal. But will they show it to him or read it to him? I hope so! I also hope he’ll want to listen to the tape to see what I might be saying to other people, but with my shit luck, Larry just won’t be that curious and will never read one word of the letters or hear one word of the tape. That doesn’t change the principle of the point – letting him know I’m still out here, still hate his guts, and that I’ll always be a problem for him. Hell, he’s lucky, cuz I’d be more than just an annoyance for him if we lived close to each other. I’d be his worst nightmare! Me sending the letters to these people, even if he’s not exactly close to these people, should piss him the fuck off. As much as I’m anxious to get these letters and the tape off in the mail, I’ll probably wait till I send Dureen, Art and Tammy their pictures. If I send the tape and letters now, it may cause Dureen and Art not to even open my mail if they get that pissed over it, cuz you know Larry’s gonna call them and bitch about it that very day. They may not have the guts at that point to open any mail from me for fear of what may be enclosed. That’s OK. I don’t mind waiting. Good things are worth waiting for.

Later…

Fucking Cybertrails! They’re as bad as AOL was for a while. Most of the time I can’t get online. I’ll try around midnight tonight. Hopefully, I’ll not only be able to get on then, but I’ll be able to get the schedule, too.

It’s 86 degrees outside and 82 degrees inside. It doesn’t feel like it’s that much in here, though. It feels like it’s 75 degrees in here.

I had a craving for fruit so I had Tom get me watermelon, strawberries, blueberries, and kiwi when he stopped at the store. The kiwis are a bitch to peel. No wonder I don’t get them that often.

Thank God we won’t be in Phoenix for this 3-day Memorial Day weekend that’s coming up. Thank God! How I dreaded this particular holiday in Phoenix! Although the Mexicans were quiet for the last Memorial Day weekend they were next to us, and I don’t remember too much of a ruckus from the blacks. Even so, I don’t expect this place to be without music. The only difference is that I’ll hear the beat of the music faintly. It won’t sound like someone’s trying to hammer our walls down. And I won’t be able to hear any people or dogs. Just the beat of Dan’s music. Or someone else’s. Probably Dan’s, though.

Well, I don’t feel like reading, I don’t feel like working on another story, I don’t have anything more to say here, I don’t have any letters to do, there’s nothing on TV at the moment I care to see, so I’ll go row. I may even work out too, although today’s not a workout day. I’m just so glad I’ve finally found something I can stick to. It may not bring me the results I’d like, but it’s still something I can stick to. I got so sick of the floor work after a few weeks or so and just totally lost interest and motivation.

Oh, that fucking spit doctor! He just doesn’t give up. Like he needs any more money than he’s got? The cock that cleaned my ear out is still trying to bill us for it yet it was supposed to be covered by our insurance. Tom called them once or twice and told them it was an insured appointment, they said they “screwed up their billing,” but they keep billing us. Well, we’re not paying for something we don’t owe money on, that’s for sure. And I don’t believe they “screwed up their billing.” I think they deliberately bill people for stuff they’re insured for to try to make an extra buck, hoping some sucker will get fed up with the bills and collection agency letters and just pay the damn thing, but their scam won’t work on us.

What was weird was that I not only got a letter about it from a collection agency, but I got a certified letter. I never got the letter, though, cuz they sent it back. They try a couple of times to get the letter to you, but when that doesn’t work they give up and send the letter back. I didn’t get it because Tom didn’t go to pick up the mail on the days they tried to get it to me, but that’s OK, I’m not interested. I found it strange that they’d send a certified letter and not just a regular letter. Since when do collection agencies send certified letters? Tom said he’s sure that’s who the letter is from and he pointed out how there was no return on the envelope of the regular letter or the slip for the certified letter. I hope he’s right, cuz those freeloaders have me so paranoid (even though I haven’t done a damn thing to these shitfucks). Especially when they’ve got cops on their side like Mr. Biased who wouldn’t believe a damn thing I told him, anyway. He never wanted to see the truth as to which one of us was really the victim. Tom said not to worry and that if it was anything official, I wouldn’t be getting a certified letter over it.

Evelyn left a message for me to call her, saying Ma wanted to talk to me, and I was like – what could she possibly want to talk to me about? Anyway, I called her (I must’ve had the music blaring when she called) and Evelyn answered. I apologized for getting hysterical on her yesterday and she was like – no problem, and even gave me her home phone number. It’s funny to think that of all the people Evelyn hates, which is almost everyone, she likes me. I can see her liking Tom like she does, but me? When Tom told me what she was like, I expected to be the last person she’d like. Anyway, she handed Ma the phone and she thanked me for the letter and I was like – oh yeah! I forgot about that. Evelyn told Tom that she thought it would be nice if Ma got letters so I typed her one. She thanked me for the letter and told me that she was going to be checking out that adult daycare center. I hope she likes it, but I worry about her. I just get very nervous when I think of hospitals, daycare, nursing homes, schools, etc. There’s always some hotshot on power-play.

I’ve devised a self-help plan regarding my rage over Larry. I’m hoping this will be very therapeutic for me. For some reason, I just can’t seem to get over how furious I am at that sick cock. I just want to kill him! I want to break his and Bill’s neck so fucking bad. They need to be taken down a peg or two by a female and I’m just the bitch to do it. They are so lucky I don’t live there! Anyway, I’m speaking my feelings into a tape just as if I were talking to his face and I plan on mailing this tape to him at some point. I just wish I could know he’d listen to it, but I doubt he’ll have the guts to hear me out. I’m sure that as soon as he hears my voice he’ll ditch the tape. I’m still gonna send it anyway and make sure I don’t put enough postage on the envelope so he has to pay to get the tape, hee, hee! I won’t waste my time praying to God for him to listen to the tape, because just like 99% of my prayers, he’ll only ignore me. He obviously ignored me when I begged for the freeloaders to read my mail. There’s no way those freeloaders would read my mail first, then call the cops. It’d take people like this, who are slower and dumber than your average person, weeks to read through all that shit. They can barely write, so imagine how long it’d take them to read about 200 pages! Anyway, even if the cock doesn’t listen to me tell him what a lying little wimp he is, it’ll still feel good to make the tape and make him pay for it, too.

Later…

We put up this really neat thing that his mom gave us. She used it in her old house, I guess. It’s a digital thermostat that tells you both the inside and outside temperatures. We used the Mexicans’ half-assed ways to our advantage. They didn’t seal up the back door very well, so we were able to run the wire out through the door without crushing it. That wire needs to be outside to sense the outside temp.

I forgot to say that I’m back to 122 pounds, but it’s not encouraging, believe me. I know I’ll be back to 125 pounds soon enough.

I’m a bit rundown now. Something just hasn’t wanted me to sleep without interruptions these last couple of nights. The night before last, cramps woke me up. Last night I was up for an hour with cramps too, and then I woke up for a second at 8:00. I would’ve gone right back to sleep if I hadn’t noticed that the power was out. I wasn’t planning to get up till 9:30. The first thing I thought was – oh no! Tom forgot to pay them or couldn’t pay them and now the power will be off all day and I won’t be able to reach him for hours and it’ll get to be a sauna in here! And what if we lose the phone, too? Well, I never did reach him, but fortunately, it wasn’t turned off for lack of payment. It was off all over Maricopa. Since I couldn’t reach Tom or fucking APS, I called Mary’s. I expected to get Mom because Tom told me Evelyn was going to stop staying with Mom during the daytime and that Mom would be going into an adult daycare center, but Evelyn answered. I told her that I couldn’t reach Tom or APS and that I feared they shut us off, but she was the one who got through to APS somehow and found out that they were having problems in the area and that it wasn’t just us. So I was without power for nearly an hour. Then again, a couple of hours later, it went out for about ten minutes. Due to the loss of power, it shot the well, so now I have no water, but I can certainly live without that compared to the AC. Of course I’ve had to piss and shit like hell since I can’t flush the toilets. Hopefully, they won’t back up once the water’s on again. I wish there was an easier way to reach Tom!!! He might be able to tell me how to reset the fucking pump. Anyway, I don’t want to get into too much computer work in case the power fails again.

For now, I’ll just say that I put Fudgie back in the big cage yesterday and let him escape since he doesn’t seem to be harming anything. I really think he goes under the couch. He escaped sometime after I went to bed at 12:30 just like the night before, and Tom and I noticed he was gone at 3:30. He should be getting hungry for lunch soon, or rather a midnight snack, for being the nocturnal creature that he is. Anyway, when I found him gone I put Ratsy in the tank since I don’t want him loose too, cuz he chews more than Fudgie. After putting Ratsy in the tank, I opened the door to the big cage so he can get in when he wants to go home.

Later…

Tom showed me how to record a macro so I could insert the time with just two keystrokes that I hit at once. Ctrl+8 is for the time and ctrl+9 is for the date and time. In the other program, I recorded a macro for the ½ sign, but this program automatically inserts the ½ sign when you type 1-slash-2. It also makes the ‘st’ of 1st smaller and the ‘rd’ of 3rd smaller. Yes, I like this version much better. I just need a new mouse. I miss having the motion wheel.

I took a nap for an hour or two. Hopefully, I’ll still be able to go to bed around midnight and sleep straight through till around 9:00 without interruptions.

Earlier, I heard a boom car stereo go by for the second night in a row, but I never did see the car. Tom still insists they can’t live out here because they can’t take the vibrations of the bumpy dirt roads, but obviously they can, although it may be someone who just visits someone else frequently. Nonetheless, I heard it and I’m sure it was from a car and not from a house. God, what am I going to do when they get more and more frequent?! They may not be able to get as close to me as they used to, but when they progress a little more and get even louder, that’ll make up for the difference. When it comes to these things I wish I was born earlier than the mid-60s. The turn of the century would’ve been nice. Then I could be dead or close to it when the damn things came out. People get worse and worse and pushier and pushier when it comes to doing their thing. They get more and more selfish and more and more desperate for attention. I saw a case on Cops the other night where a baby’s parents took it to a bar. Then the parents had an argument and they ended up outside in an alley. At one point, the mother handed the baby to a homeless bum so she could fight with her husband. My point? My point is that these are the kinds of people that are becoming parents more and more often. Eventually, all parents will be like them. Well, this baby – these are the kinds of kids that grow up to be the selfish losers like what we had to live next to for years. This neglected baby is going to grow up wanting to be heard, to be noticed, to seek the acknowledgment of its existence. It’ll do anything for attention. Just like a religious fanatic wants to spread God’s so-called holy word to as many people as possible, these fucks want to spread their music to as many people as possible. The best way to reach more people with noise is with music. I mean, what else are they gonna do? Stand out on a street corner and yell? That’d get some attention, but not as much as a moving car would with music blasting from it that’s way louder than a person’s voice. Anyway, it’s quiet here 99% of the time. The best thing about the power failure, which makes a house dead quiet, is not having to listen to barking dogs, let alone noisy blacks and Mexicans. You rarely hear dogs in here, thank God. They haven’t even been booming in the sky. It’d be nice if they only did that January 1st – March 15th every year, but fat chance. I’m sure they alternate flying schedules. Maybe they’ll start again on June 1st, which may be a good thing. It may help me stay on schedule till my next appointment.

I finally got a hold of Tom at work around noon and he came home to reset the well, which shuts itself off after a power failure. I tried to do it myself, but the buttons are fucked up thanks to when it shorted out before. Thanks, Dan, you mother-fucking cock! Will there ever be a day when I don’t want to kill Steven and Dan? I doubt it!

He reminded me that I could’ve called his old work number, cuz there’s always someone there that could go get him in an emergency. I did call that number, but it was busy. Maybe I dialed wrong.

Another thing Tom pointed out is that due to this house being so well insulated, it wouldn’t kill me if I had no AC all day. It’d get uncomfortable, but not to the point where I’d roast to death.

Anyway, I learned a lesson from this, which he pointed out – don’t attempt to take a shower after a power failure cuz that’ll just drain all the water from the pressure tank. If I don’t, then I can flush the toilet 20-30 times. Having two toilets helped so I could divvy up my peeing between the two, trying to use as little toilet paper as possible, although if I’d had to do them all in one, it wouldn’t have backed up.

Fudgie, whose nickname is Houdini, after the famous escapist magician, lost his freedom today. I discovered one of his hiding places, which neither of us was too surprised about since it’s close to where I sleep. I still think he may have gone under the couch, but he was definitely hanging out in the corner of the master closet behind the guitars. He chewed the toe up on one of my old ballet slippers, which I thought was no big deal. I simply moved the good shoes up to the shelves. But then the little devil had the nerve to chew holes in the airbed, so that was it. He’s in the tank till he can’t squeeze through the bars. I also think it’s best that he remains in captivity so he doesn’t get too used to being free and less and less wanting to be handled by me and to play with me. I want him to want to hang out with me too, and not just to want to explore.

Two nights ago I put Ratsy and Fudgie in the big barred cage, but when I got up this morning just before 9:00, I noticed that Fudgie escaped. I should’ve known he was still too skinny! I haven’t seen that little devil, whom I’m guessing is asleep under the couch, but come tonight when he gets hungry and thirsty, I expect I’ll see him. At least he’s not a chewer and hasn’t damaged any wires.

I’m not even stuck and I’m back to 125 pounds. I feel like a giant balloon! I don’t know if it’s water or what, but this period has been super screwy. I woke up with cramps today but never bled a drop. My tits are still a little sore too, so when am I gonna flow out and be done with this shit for the month? I hate having these periods be such long, drawn-out ordeals. Can’t I just get my period? Just simply get it? Better yet, how about a hysterectomy? Why not, God? You and I both know I don’t need my uterus.

Later…

Well, I’m not stuck anymore. Still 125, though. Why is it so natural for me to be 20-25 pounds overweight? Why??? Stupid question, I know. Just about everyone who’s over 30 is overweight. Although I knew it wouldn’t, it still would’ve been nice if I could’ve lost weight and inches with the Bowflex, but if I bounce back and forth between 122-125 it’ll be better than going over 125. Same with the 1-2 inches I bounce between. Better my thighs go bouncing between 22-23 than to wake up one day with 25” or even 30” thighs!

The only way I could lose weight would be to starve it off, but what’s the point? If I were 110 tomorrow, I’d be back to where I am now in a few weeks, so why bother?

I know it’s daytime, but it kind of bothers me that I haven’t seen Fudgie. I’d like to believe he’s under the couch, sleeping happily and comfortably till he gets hungry enough to show himself, but why do I have the feeling I’ll never see him again, and that if I do, he won’t be alive? God, please don’t take this rat! At least not so soon!

Later…

Fudgie’s home! I just got up to head into the kitchen for coffee when I saw him at his bowl eating. I had moved Ratsy into the tank and left the door open to the big cage so he could get food and drinks. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, in light of losing Scuttles so soon, but man is this rat scrawny! I hope it’s nothing bad and that he fattens up soon.

I see Gophie out front playing right now. Now that my inside pets are situated, I think I’ll go out and give her a bite to eat.

Later…

It’s hot out there. I don’t know how hot since as usual, I’m having trouble getting online.

I took down the flag wall I made. Tom climbed the ladder and tacked the top row of flags up, and I only had to climb about three rungs of that shaky ladder, fortunately, and could just yank the flags off the wall. It was just too much. Too tacky looking. The beach scene mural will look a lot nicer.

I guess I’m officially moved over here and done with the 1992 version of this program that had been such a good friend of mine for so long. Another thing I like about this program is that I can use more than eight characters for file names.

Later…

Tom called about a half-hour ago, saying he was leaving work. Last night he told me it’d be a late day for him, but because his boss doesn’t want him working overtime, he gets to leave work early later on in the week.

Oh, how cute. Gophie’s out front running back and forth. I wonder – is this the same animal I’ve been seeing and feeding? Or are there other Gophies? I get the feeling this is the same one because I’ve never seen more than one Gophie at once.

I changed the mice’s cages earlier. I’m trying to change all the animals on Mondays and Thursdays instead of just Mondays. Although I always have the group of six mice in a large tank, I always do a different tube design. This time around I have a tower of straight tubes sticking off of T-tubes at different angles, stemming up from the bass of the tank.

I guess Fudgie could live like a cat if he’s not going to chew and damage anything. Or decide to go pissing and shitting wherever he felt like it. If I left the cage door open, he could come and go as he pleases, using his cage as a litter box and for food and drink. Ratsy, on the other hand, is a chewer, so unless I want to separate them, which I don’t, I better keep the door shut. Maybe I’ll separate them sometimes and let Fudgie run around loose for a while. Maybe tonight, before bed, I’ll stick him in the big cage, and then let him escape for a while.

I’m experimenting with and trying to get to like this newer, more modern word processor I’m using. I like how it automatically caps the first letter after a period and the I’s in words like I’m, I’ll, etc. This word processor is three years old and the one I’ve been using all along is eight years old. It has all the functions the other one had, plus some new features that are hard to figure out, but I’m working on it. This is the word processor we’re going to use to send my story to publishers.

Paula definitely had to have lost her phone for her not to have called this long. I’m rather disappointed that she never sent me the letter and picture she said she was going to send. Why does she have to be such a bullshitter? Maybe something happened to her, though. Maybe she punched someone else out and is in jail, or maybe she got killed. In my next letter to her, I’ll say something about stopping my letters in case something happened where she wasn’t getting my mail, and see if that prompts her into writing.

Dan’s got his place lit up and has his music on. This time it’s softer than last Sunday night and I can just ever so barely make it out. This is one lonely, dude. I said to myself – I’ll bet come Sunday evening, after spending the whole weekend alone with no one to talk to, he’s gonna get desperate for attention and play his music when it cools down. Well, I was right. I guess I know a lonely person when I see one. I’m amazed he isn’t engine-gunning. Other than that, it’s been a quiet, peaceful weekend. I finally get to live the way I want to live and the way that should be my right to live if I want to – in peace. I’ll enjoy every second I get of it! It’s so wonderful not knowing next door’s habits and who they have for visitors and when they have them. It ain’t my business and I don’t want to know!

On the wall in my office where I intend to put that beach mural, one of these years, I hung two rows of flags. Two rows of three. I’ve got irises, Tweety, an underwater fish, Bugs Bunny, Snoopy, and musical notes. Personally, I think it looks sort of tacky. Especially with Indian dolls in front of it. I may take it down. We’ll see.

I’m having one of those screwy periods that are slow in starting. I had spots, then a light flow, and now I’m waiting on my full flow. I thought that was coming on early cuz I got all crampy and asked Tom for a raincheck on sex if he had any plans for that today. No problem, he said. He took it so well as usual. I guess this means we’ll have to wait till next weekend since he doesn’t really like sex during the week, even if he won’t admit this. If I’m right, and I’m only going by his actions, cuz actions do speak louder than words – what’s the big deal? Why can’t he just admit he likes sex on the weekend? And at the end of his day? He seems to copycat me, though. Meaning that when I bail out of sex for whatever reason, he does the same thing. So, next weekend, he may bail out. Better yet, my guess is that we’ll get in bed together, but we won’t screw. Something will happen where he’ll conveniently forget how to go inside me, or I’ll be too dry, or he’ll be sore, tired, or curious about what’s going on outside. One or the other will happen for sure, but he’ll bail out. I’d bet my dolls on it.

My hair is the healthiest it’s been in over a decade. I certainly don’t have any split ends anymore. Maybe a few, but they’d be hard to find, just like it used to be hard to find any that weren’t.

I couldn’t have been righter when I told Tom in Phoenix that old curses never die, and that we’d be playing leak in no time at all after moving. This is leak number three already! Those mother-fuckers at Palm Harbor! Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhh! They’ve got two marks against them. They’re males (mostly) and they’re Mexicans. I love this house, but I totally regret not taking Tom’s suggestion and getting out of Phoenix sooner than we did. I didn’t know, though, that we’d have to go through the four months of bullshit we went through, although I should’ve known, and I didn’t know the house would be made in Mexico! We should’ve cut our freeloader time down, skipped out on the freeloaders altogether, and left Phoenix sooner. We could’ve gotten land and a cheap trailer like what we’re getting from Evelyn and lived in that while we built a house for us and built it right. These fucking Mexicans half-assed so many fucking things with this house, it’s fucking pitiful! The leak we had under the house the first night we were in here, though, was Brian’s fault (always a fucking male), but the half-assed tightening of the pipes under the kitchen and second bath sinks were completely Mexicans-made. Tom just discovered the second bath’s sink leaks and believes this may be the cause of the foul odor we’ve smelled in there. Now why can’t these lazy bastards do something as simple as tightening a valve all the way, huh? Is this really that difficult to do? Pathetic people do pathetic things. Anyway, even Mary was astounded. She was like - you mean you’re fixing leaks on a brand-new house?! Yup. And I’m sure we’ll be fixing something else they’ve fucked up real soon. Anyway, I’d like to know what’s causing the foul odor in the master bath. So far, I amazingly can’t find any leaks in there yet, although this odor is different. The second bath smelled kind of like the smell of hair dye that hits you went you walk into a salon. The one in the master bath smells like seaweed. I’ll keep an eye on it, but it looks like they may have left us one area that actually doesn’t leak. What’s next, though? The toilets? The dishwasher? What?

Household problems aren’t the only unfortunate vibes I have. Right now, I have the feeling we’re not getting a printer in June like we had hoped and talked about. Something does not want me sending pictures to Doe, Art and Tammy. Tom said he’s not ready to give up on it and I told him that I was, so when he sees that I’m right, don’t beat yourself up for it, I said. It’s not your fault. You know whose fault it is.

Steven and Dan, you lucky, lucky mother-fuckers! They’re just as lucky as Bill and Larry and so many others for escaping my fists. How I’d love to scar up Steven’s face so that every time he looked in the mirror, he remembered me!!!

Well, I’ve been working out for six weeks now and where do I stand? Really close to where I started. My starting measurements were 37-29-38 with 22½ thighs. Now they’re 36½-29-37 with 22 thighs. Big deal, huh? Although I suppose it’s better than nothing. I still think I’ll always fluctuate between weighing 122-125 pounds and an inch or so in measurements, but he says that in time, if I stick to working out, I’ll fluctuate between smaller numbers. That’s OK. I can accept maintaining what I’ve got. I mean, at least I can maintain and never have to worry about getting bigger. Carrying 20 extra pounds for the rest of my life won’t kill me. There are worse things than that. Also, I’m glad I finally found something I can enjoy sticking to. I can’t imagine life without the Bowflex! I’m 122 pounds today, but today I can’t shit, so I’m sure I’ll be gaining. Last week I was stuck for four days and ended up going from 122-125. I hope I’m not stuck that long, but if I am, I am. There’s nothing I can do about it.

Tonight’s the night Tom and I agreed we’d sleep together, but I have a feeling that if I don’t mention it, he won’t either, so we’ll see. I’m not going to mention it because I want to see how much it matters to him. I don’t want to push him into doing something he doesn’t want to do. As for me, you know I hate sharing a bed so I can live without us sleeping together. I wake up at the slightest movement, and his snoring is horrendous. What’s important is that we love each other and stay together forever.

We were going to go to where he works together today, but he didn’t need to work, so we visited Mary, Dave and Mom today, stopping at Circle K first.

Her evaporative cooler felt nice. I miss those things. We were there for a little over two hours and made sure not to arrive till Pepper was gone. They brought him to be groomed. It was nice not having him out back barking his ass off. All I had to listen to at times was their obnoxious birds. The hamster and fish are quiet, though.

Before we left I copied a few pictures for them onto a floppy. Pictures of the snake, the iguana, the scorpion, and the outfits we made for Bailey.

We all watched the Preakness horse race on TV (boring) and Mary and Dave went out to get pizza at one point, too. Dave and I teased Tom and Mary for liking pepperoni pizza and they ranked on us for liking mushroom pizza. I had two pieces which fortunately didn’t fuck up my stomach.

While Mary and Dave were getting the pizza, Mom said, “Have you seen the really cute commercial? The one where a woman’s having a baby and out pops a Japanese baby?”

I’m like - oh, please! I’m so sick of commercials, movies and shows with that shit. I’ve seen childbirth on TV more than murder!

Speaking of TV, I guess part of the reason we’re not getting the printer in June is my fault. I mentioned how our TV is a little small and definitely too dark since it’s very old. Well, they took this to mean more than just a casual comment. I guess I came off as not being able to live without a good TV. I said something about the TV a few times and they ended up calling us once we got home offering to buy us a new TV for our anniversary unless we could think of something we wanted more. Well, I want a new printer more than a new TV, but a new TV would certainly be nice. Very nice, and I know Tom would love it because he said he wants a TV more than a printer and because of how much he loves TV. He spends 90% of the time he’s home watching TV, I sometimes feel I have to compete with it and that he doesn’t want to spend time with me. There’s not much we could do together, though. He doesn’t like sex all that much and we can’t go swimming together, that’s for sure. Anyway, I have mixed emotions about them getting us a TV, which is so generous of them to offer. I want Tom to have what he wants, but like he said, I threw a monkey wrench in his plan. He was hoping for more money than usual for our anniversary cuz Ma’s upping the amount of money she’s giving people to avoid us being taxed when she dies, and now we may not get that if we get the TV. If I was smart, I’d drop the idea of sending pictures to people, like I said before. If I’m right about something not wanting me to do it, and it gets more and more obvious that that’s the case, I don’t want to get in trouble over people I can’t stand anyway. I only wanted to rub it in their faces (the new house, etc.), but not that bad. They’re not that worth it, trust me.

Mary’s yard looked great. She’s got those wildflowers at the side of her house, a pretty primrose bush in front, a rose bush, a tall palm tree, etc. We can’t plant things here from seed because of how the wildlife eats them, but hopefully we won’t have any problems planting things we’ll get from a nursery someday.

Mary told us a cute story about a woman she saw playing with a rat in her car at an intersection. She said it was running around her neck and that the woman was picking it up by the tail and tickling its stomach.

I can’t believe how good Mary’s thighs look for being as overweight as she is. I mean, she’s much bigger than me, and she is overweight, but not like Nora and Evie and so many other women are. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she jogged. Her thighs seem skinnier than mine and firmer. Also, she has no craters on the backs of her thighs like I do. How does she pull it off and eat McDonald’s every day and not exercise?

Later…

Looks like I guessed right. Sleeping together once a week isn’t that important to Tom, or else he’d have remembered our plans. Still, I’m not going to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, and besides, I doubt I would’ve enjoyed it. I like sleeping with people in my imagination.

I totally dread my next dentist appointment. My teeth are a mess and I’m going to have a dozen cavities! My teeth have even been sensitive to hot and cold lately.

Later…

I decided that once Tom mentioned going to bed and heading towards the guest room, I’d ask if he forgot about our plan, or if it just wasn’t worth remembering. He said he forgets to do things he wants to do all the time. Whatever. I asked him what he wanted to do and he said he’d sleep in his room tonight, but that he wanted what we discussed to have time to “sink in.” He said that people usually go to bed around the same time, but not to go to sleep with the hopes of trying not to wake the other person up. He said it’s a shared thing where sometimes you wake each other up, both intentionally and not. Sometimes you just wake each other up by accident, sometimes you deliberately do so to screw, etc. So what do we do from here? I asked him, and he said there were no plans and no steps to take, cuz this is something that just is. Not for us, it isn’t. I think we’d have some work to do in order to make it something that just is if that’s possible, but as I told him, I’ll do what he wants, and whatever’s fated to be will be. I have a feeling, though, that if we try to adapt to new ways, something up in the sky will get awfully mad at us, cuz wouldn’t we have been sleeping together all along if we were meant to in the first place? I told him that the spontaneity of it sounded nice, but if he liked spontaneity, then why does he announce when we’re gonna have sex? He always says something like - let’s get together in ten minutes, or something like that. He said he would prefer to be spontaneous about it and that the reason he announces it is that I’m always saying I’m gonna listen to music, have popcorn, or do something, so he feels that’s the only way to wedge it in. I kind of took that as a lame excuse, though. Yes, I’d like to be left alone when I’m listening to music and yes, I’d like to eat my popcorn in peace, but what about the other things I do? They’re interruptible. I take breaks from the things I do all the time, anyway. If I’m reading in the bedroom, he’s welcome to come in and join me because that book will still be there when we’re done, and I don’t mean just for sex. I mean for anything, be it to chat or whatever. In the end, whatever will be, will be. I still truly believe that. We’ll go where we’re destined to go.

Just went out and threw some food out for Gophie. Haven’t seen that snake since I first saw it. I guess it moved on.

Freddie’s gotten to be the fattest mouse I ever had and he’s so lazy, too. I wonder if he doesn’t have tumors.

Anyway, maybe there are still some hard feelings toward Tom. God, all the problems with sex. Sex, sex, sex! Always sex-related! I’m so fucking sick of it! Eliminate all the fights over sex and having a kid and we’d hardly ever fight. At least we don’t fight nearly as much as we used to since I became OK with not having a kid. He’s not only lied about why he doesn’t cum and about wanting a kid, but he also lied about cumming back when I tricked him by playing dumb and commenting on how he came regularly. He was caught red-handed, yet he still had the gall to lie to my face. So, he’s already proven that he’s capable of lying when it’s in his best interest. Aside from his lying about sex and a kid, I appreciate him for a million reasons, but does he fully appreciate me? I’ve done a lot more than just save him time by doing his laundry and cleaning the house. Do you know how many women would’ve left him because of the sex, and mostly because they couldn’t have a child with him? He, right along with God, has taken so much from me, regardless of if I’m OK with it. Not that I desire to leave him or cheat on him, but I’m doomed to a life of shitty sex, when he wants it, how whatever’s up there wants it, with no regard for what I may want, and God help me if I ever want a kid again. Yes, God would see to it that I miscarried as many times as they did an implant in me if I had invitro, but do I really think Tom would ever let me get that far? Right! I’m sure he’d either refuse to cum or tamper with it if he did. If I never mentioned a kid again, neither would he for as long as he lived.

I’m also a little tired of his getting so defensive over simple little comments I may make. Last night I offered to have sex, but he wasn’t in the mood. It wasn’t the weekend. All I said was, “Yeah, I know you’re a weekend kind of guy,” and he was like, “Yeah, well, let me be me.”

Now what did that comment have to do with him being him? All I did was make an observation. Not demand he be somebody else. As far as dominating and controlling the sex, he sure is your average, normal male! Thank God he doesn’t want it just about every day like most males do! That’d really drive me crazy.

Anyway, the reaction to my comment and to a test I ran him through is what upset me most. I said I was thinking of experimenting with calling the gay lines just to see what his reaction would be. Sure enough, he was against it. So, he can do what he wants sexually, but I can’t. It’s amazing he even goes down on me at times. Nonetheless, I would never step out on him and I know it’s a good thing that he objected, and I figured as much, but I just had to see it anyway.

My sex life isn’t over just because of him and his boring bullshit. It’s cuz of me. I just have no interest anymore. The only thing that interests me is to close my eyes and imagine a woman down there while I use the vibrator and this isn’t nearly as often as it used to be, either. It’s just that when you’re dealing with fantasy, and I’ve always felt this way, there are no problems. The vibrator could break, but it doesn’t lie to me and play games. It doesn’t make me feel controlled, manipulated or cheated out of things that should rightfully be mine. So, I guess I was wrong to say I was over my hard feelings towards Tom. Perhaps I never will be and perhaps this is the one thing I can never ever forgive him for. I’m going to try my damnedest, though, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how I feel, even though I’ve told him. I just don’t want to let it show if I can help it. I’ll just go along with him and let him dictate when and how we have sex. I still could do without a kid, and at the same time I have hard feelings, I want him to be happy and do what he wants more than I want him to change to suit me.

I feel this is more than just a case of his not cumming because he doesn’t want the expense and responsibility of a child and because he doesn’t think I could handle a child (even though he denies all this). I think it’s also about arrogance and stubbornness. It’s like a competition to him that he’s determined to stick to and win. It’s almost like he’s been saying to me all these years, “You got your way with this, this and that, and you’re not getting your way with this one.”

Fine Tom. Just remember - the next time you say you’re bothered by how you are - do something about it or don’t mention it at all.

It’s important that I note that for every time he’s lied about sex and a kid, he’s done and said thousands of wonderful things. I love this man dearly, despite his flaws, and I couldn’t imagine life without him. Even if I returned to wanting a kid really bad and knew I could conceive by a man who’d cum regularly and was attracted to men in general, I’d still give that up in the name of love. I love Tom enough to give up anything I may want that I can’t have with him for whatever the reason may be. I only wish that he’d be honest about things. He should’ve told me up front that he was against cumming and a kid. I still would’ve loved him and stayed with him.

Now, after nearly 7 years of this sexual shit, I’m SICK TO DEATH OF IT!!! So, hopefully, you won’t be hearing much about it from me from here on out. I’m fated for the sex to be how it has been for the rest of my life. Period. Why cry over spilled milk?

Later...

This is just too damn weird! I usually get up around 10:00 these days, but I’ve been up since 7:30 today. That’s because I had a dream someone was knocking on the door and got up and checked to be sure and couldn’t fall back asleep. I didn’t see anyone, and I was sure it was just a dream seeing that I’ve had dreams like this before and how early it was, but now I don’t know. Surprisingly enough, it turns out that Tom had that same exact dream at 2:30 in the morning, 6 hours after going to bed, just like me. I can’t find any other common denominators, though. He said he was sure his was a dream because it didn’t sound real and because of the hour, but this sure is a bizarre coincidence, not to mention the footsteps I could’ve sworn I heard inside the house. Although the animals could’ve easily made this sound, shortly after he went to bed, I went and vegged out in bed with coffee. Well, he sometimes shuffles his feet when he walks. Especially if he’s tired. I could’ve sworn I heard him come shuffling out into the kitchen and fumble around with something in there, be it a glass or whatever, but he says it wasn’t him. If our dreams weren’t dreams, then who the hell would be knocking at the door at such odd hours and why? Burglars don’t make any sense because 2:30 in the morning just isn’t the time to go breaking into houses unless you want to risk getting killed. At 7:30, someone could’ve seen that the car was gone, but if they knocked with plans of breaking in if no one answered, why didn’t they? I peeked out the window cuz I can see the stairs from there. I didn’t see anyone, any fresh tracks, or any cars, so who knows if our dreams were just dreams or not? It’s a hell of a coincidence, though.

The first thing I think when I think of knocks on the door is - oh, no. Somebody did something to the blacks or Mexicans and they don’t know who did, so they’re conveniently naming me just to get at me and just to punish somebody for whatever shit happened to them. 

These people are sick enough to do something like that, and besides, this world is so black and white, lacking fairness and gray, balanced areas. Meaning that where whites once had more rights than minorities; now it’s the other way around. You think Mr. Biased would jump to defend a white person being harassed by a black or a Mexican? Somehow, I don’t think so.