Tomorrow will be my final round with these freeloaders, and I’ve decided – that’s it! I have to get on with my life and I’ve had enough! Tomorrow is the last day I do something, go somewhere, or pay money because of the freeloaders. I’m 35, not 15, and my life is my life and I’m gonna run it from now on! Period. No one tells me what to do from here on out, no one! I have to take charge of my own life and live my life for me once and for all. Not what others decide. I’ve had my life run, controlled and dictated enough by individuals and society in general. I’ll see Helen at least for a while longer, and I’ll behave, but damn it, it’s time I took control of my own life and freedom and that’s exactly what I’m going to do!!! I’m breaking free of these fucking freeloaders for once and forever. I will not be their little victim anymore! I can’t stop them from throwing me in jail tomorrow if that’s what they choose to do, but I can ignore them and their unfair, outrageous, inappropriate or even impossible demands. I did my time paying for the freeloaders. No more! And if they can’t handle that and they want to treat me like some common criminal who’s done violence – fine. But they’ll never get me unless they bust their way into here and haul me out. Is this bullshit really worth it to them? Are a letter and a phone call really worth the effort? We shall see, but I’ll be damned if I’ll have judges, probation officers, or anyone, playing Mommy and daddy with me. It would be totally discriminating of them to tell me I had to work just cuz I ain’t got a kid, and guess what? I do work and I intend to keep my job.

Today we buried Ratsy next to Scuttles in the special cemetery. It’s hard to believe he’s gone after over two years. Because of all the rain yesterday, we kept him inside by the back door wrapped in a pretty aqua-colored plastic bag with that neon twine securing it. I’ll miss him. We agreed we’d also get a rat on Monday, as well as mice to breed with, so Houdini can have a roommate. Rats and mice hate living alone.

Lately, I’ve been needing 3mg of Melatonin and a Benadryl to go to sleep, but last night I only needed 1mg of Melatonin cuz I also had 1.5 bottles of wine. It sure is helping to relax me throughout the weekend, but even without being under the influence of wine, as I am now, I’m not the basket case I thought I’d be and oughta be. Maybe it’s cuz of my prayer, maybe it’s cuz Helen’s words are finally sinking in – don’t let them win. Well, they might’ve won long ago, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let the courts bully/intimidate me! You don’t know how tempting it’s gonna be on Monday, no matter what the ruling is, as long as I’m free, to simply up and walk away from the court’s orders. Again, this is a letter sent to someone who harassed me for years. Not some violent act committed against an innocent person. And I’m sick to death of others telling me what to do! The only problem with ignoring them and getting on with my life is that I know they’ll get me for it, and God will make damn sure they do too, just like he made sure they got me on the default warrant I never knew existed. You’d think they’d spend their time pursuing those who are violent, but nope. I’m a woman, I’m the type of person they wouldn’t let “win,” so to speak, and not do what they say, and I couldn’t hide from them forever. Even if I could, God would still send me straight into their eagerly awaiting arms somehow, some way. He’d probably have a cop pull us over when we were going somewhere, for whatever reason, then I’d be trapped. I also doubt there’s a statute of limitations on disobeying court orders. So, although I have no choice but to let them boss me around for the next year, I’ll be damned as I’ve said numerous times, if they’re gonna force me to change my life/body and make me do things that are simply not possible or inappropriate. But as I also said, if they ask the impossible of me, I just won’t do it. It’s that simple. I cannot do the impossible.

Mom sent back a little toy doll for me with Tom yesterday. It’s a plastic doll that’s only a couple of inches in length and probably came with a fast food meal or cereal. It’s a doll in a wheelchair with a sports cap on her head and a lock of hair sticking out in back. I guess it’s a racing wheelchair she’s in.

My weight has slipped back down to just under 115 pounds, rather than just over. I don’t know if it’s cuz of stress, having less sugar, or both.

Somebody tried calling who was out of the area just after 9:00, but they didn’t leave a message.

Again, God’s the last one I wanted to go crying to for help dealing with all the stress that’s on me, and as belittling as it was, I had to try, even if it was a one-in-a-million chance that he’d help me through this in any way. I had to at least try. I begged that he not let them make any unreasonable or impossible demands of me and to please not let them make me work or go to school. The only way I could do that would be to leave my home and my husband, yet Tom swears they cannot split us up, nor can they make us move. I don’t know about that anymore. I’m beginning to wonder if the courts aren’t God himself. With the way the laws have gotten so strict and so damn ridiculous, I think they could order me to stand on my head all day if they wanted to. I mean, really! Next thing I know, it’ll be a class 1 felony to wear purple T-shirt dresses, and I won’t know it till it’s too late and I find out the hard way.

I feel like God or something up there is trying to force me back with people. I don’t want to be with people on a regular basis! That’s why we moved here; to get away from people. Yet I still feel like whatever’s up there is saying, as it has with just about all the things I choose, no, you can’t do that. I want you back in the city and with people. It’s like the more I try to avoid something in particular, the more I’m forced to endure it.

They’ve already hyped this thing up and blown this case way, way out of proportion. So, if they want to act like I committed a violent offense and make me pay the outrageous probation fee, fine, but enough is enough already! I’ll be damned if I’ll allow them to change my whole life and even my body over this! They’re gonna have to meet me halfway and do their part in cooperating as well! The less cooperation I get from them, the less they’ll get from me. If they want me to work, fine, but they’re gonna have to set me up with a home job. It’s as simple as that. I’ve thought about it and have decided that if they ask the impossible of me, I just won’t do it. Period. It’s my life/body and I’m sick of people telling me what to do with it. Especially in so many extremely unfair, unreasonable, and now maybe even impossible ways.

Although Tom says I don’t have to worry or prove anything to the courts, I fear them calling me a liar and being even harsher on me for guessing wrong how much Tom takes home monthly. I guessed he took home $1400 a month when in fact he really takes home $1700 a month. Well, as I told them, Tom’s perfectly willing to provide them with any documents they may need, but would they buy it if I told them I was mistaken, should they bring that up again, or will they call me a liar? Well, they can call me what they want and they can order me not to send any mail like that again, but they cannot take charge of my life and body as if they own it. I’m nobody’s slave. Not even those who don black robes.

Later…

I told Tom that I’m sorry for not believing him all these years about you know what. I’m glad someone, somewhere, showed me the documentation on it. I just wish they’d done it sooner! However, I pointed out to him that I may have been wrong about him doing it on purpose, but I wasn’t wrong about saying it wouldn’t just “go away.” So no, not talking about it won’t “fix it.” It’ll just make it easier for him to ignore it, but here’s the good news - I’d be thrilled for us to ignore it for a good long time. The last thing I want in this sick, crazy, unfair world is to drag a kid into it and in the middle of life’s misery (aside from taking on responsibilities I couldn’t handle). At least right, now and probably for quite a while, this is how I feel. Right now, I don’t think I’ll even want to deal with it, nor my bed problems (my low drive), till way in the future, like when I’m around 40, if ever at all, but we’ll see. Let’s just say that this year and the next are definitely out of the question. He’s very welcome to not cum and not seek help for it for a good long time to come, or maybe even forever.

I forgot to mention that Don said he doubts the black bitch will be there. Bullfuckingshit she won’t be! If she has a right to be there, and I don’t see why she wouldn’t, she’ll be there. She wouldn’t miss it for the world. I just hope this will be the last time I have to be degraded into seeing that sick face! Haven’t I been victimized enough by her and her equally sick associates? So victimized and the courts don’t even know it. Nor do they even know or see this bitch’s true colors. I don’t think they ever wanted to, either.

What Ratsy did earlier was both sweet and sad. The poor thing can barely raise his head now and he’s lost more weight and fur. I don’t think he’s even eating much anymore. He tried pulling himself up out of his door, which I helped him to do since he’s so weak. He sat with me and let me pat him and although it was sweet, it was sad. It’s as if he knows he doesn’t have much time left and so he wants all the love and attention he can get. I’m pretty sure he’ll be gone by the middle of next month.

Helen’s one of those few who like me, isn’t afraid of rats. She said her son had a rat that she got attached to, and it was over two and under three when it died. That’s how old Ratsy is.

I’ve been making “preparations,” so to speak, just in case they do decide to throw me away in jail. For example, I moved the bigger dolls that were on top of the entertainment center that’s in my office so that Tom could use my stereo without worrying about shaking things around and knocking the dolls off if he wanted to use it.

It’s raining out now. Hope no thunder wakes me this weekend. I’ve been waking up every hour as it is just because of all this freeloader stress. Same fucking shit, even worse, than when I had her sitting on my shoulder – the fucking mother-fucking bitch! God, I hope what goes around really does come around! I hope that somehow, somewhere, someday, someone will give this bitch and her partners a taste of their own medicine, but you know what? I doubt it. I seriously doubt it. I don’t believe what comes around goes around for everyone. For some, including myself, but not for all. All I know is I made something very angry up there for rebelling against its “freeloader treatment” it felt I deserved by moving, then by speaking my mind about it.

Anyway, I also left Tom instructions for the best and easiest way to care for the animals, not that he’s this stupid idiot or anything. I asked that he bury Ratsy by Scuttles, cuz if they do toss me away, he’ll most definitely be gone when and if I ever made it out of there. Personally, I think I’d just curl up and die. I’d want to die if I committed some horrible crime and deserved what I got, but to go to jail for this? For this?!?! You bet I’d want to keel over and go belly up. In fact, I wouldn’t mind it right about now. If I was doomed to die at this very moment, as long as it wasn’t going to be a long, drawn-out painful ordeal, I’m ready to go. I’m ready to leave this fucked, unfair world. Just say the word, God, and I won’t rebel or fight you on that one!

I wish I had more guts than I do, cuz then I could hang myself. It isn’t just lack of bravery, though, that’s kept me from doing that up till now - it’s Tom. I live for him, but I wonder just how far I can be pushed before even his pleading for me to live just isn’t enough.

Later…

Here I was thinking that Ratsy wouldn’t make it to the middle of next month. Well, he won’t even make it to the first of it, cuz I just found him dead. I’m too sad now to write anymore.

There was a knock on the side door while I was watching TV the other day. I knew they knew someone was home because I knew they had to have heard the TV. I ignored them till I was able to see two guys in jeans and maroon shirts saying: Pinal County Assessors. At that point, I could see that one had measuring tape strung out, and the other started to persistently pound on the front door, so at this point, I felt it was not cop-related and safe to open the door. They said they’d come to measure the house. Tom later told me it was for tax purposes. I swear we’ve had more people knock on this door than our door in Phoenix, excluding mail people!

I have so much to say and so many thoughts racing through my head. I feel like this bullshit case is getting worse and worse and so are my anxieties. The main thing Helen and I discussed and that she told me was to work on was controlling my thinking, which she understands is often easier said than done and will take time to do. She said don’t let them win by worrying about them and thinking about them. Well, they already have won. They won years ago and they’re still winning. And no, I can’t get them and what they’ve done to me off my mind, either. They made my life a living hell and they continue to do so to this day and probably the rest of the days of my life, too.

After talking with Don yesterday, going to jail or paying thousands of dollars isn’t my biggest concern anymore. Being forced to work is my biggest concern! I was completely blown away to learn that going to work or school is part of probation and that they can order a person to do so. First of all, there’s no way I could get to work or school with bus lines over an hour away and with him needing the car to drive himself to and from work. Secondly, who the hell are they to demand I go to work? Is this God’s punishment to me for bashing freeloaders for not working? Well, it’s not like I’m living off of people’s tax money, wandering the streets all day, or sitting at home staring at the walls all day, either. I have a right to be the homemaker that I am and that is a job. Paul says that those who aren’t home watching children are considered not having anything to do, so they should be working. I know society’s grown more and more against the idea of those being homemakers, but it’s my life, goddamn it! I’m not a murderer and I don’t think I should be forced to change my life over a letter and a phone call! Even the standard $40-a-month probation fee doesn’t fit the crime. That’s outrageous! These fucking freeloaders are gonna end up costing us around 1000 bucks! Maybe more. What they’re asking is unfair, unreasonable and even impossible. They’re asking too much of me! Period. I can see going to a counselor and checking in weekly with a probation officer and even their outrageous fee, but work or school? I don’t think so! I explained to both Don and Paul how difficult it would be for me to work even if transportation wasn’t an issue, because of my phobias and lack of trust concerning being around people (especially in regular jobs that don’t involve stripping). I told them I was on disability cuz of it and will provide documentation of that in court, although I know it’ll be useless.

Fuck these fucking freeloaders for turning my life upside down and ruining it like they have!!! In a sense, they’re making it worse now than when we lived with them. Tom said they can’t force someone to move. But he also said they couldn’t make people work either, yet he was wrong. Being made to work will force me to move. I’d need to see if I could stay with Mary so I could be near bus lines. I told them, though, that if I could do work at home, even if it was stuffing envelopes for free, that’d be fine, but think about it. How many home jobs do they have? They’re very very scarce.

Paul, who I called myself, said they’re not necessarily going to make me work, but in the end, he didn’t make me feel any better about the prospect of it and even left me more convinced that they will order me to work.

I suppose that after they control my life, my body comes next, huh? I wouldn’t put it past them to order me drugged up. I am not taking drugs as a way of coping with my problems and I will go to jail before I let anyone make a guinea pig of me like they did in the past, and then they’ll have to pay (for my food and shit like that). I’m sorry, but there’s only so far you can go with controlling people, and I cannot let these people, even if it’s the courts, seize total control of my life/body. I’ve had very little say in my life/body as it is, and I don’t need them seizing what little control I do have. Fucking mother-fucking freeloaders! Aaaaarrrggghhhh! They control everything. Virtually all aspects of my life revolve around them. They dominate, dictate and control my life as if I were their puppet on a string! I really am never going to be able to live for myself, am I? I really am never going to be able to live life for myself and take charge of my own life and body. My whole life is really going to be about having to do what society says I should do with my life, and probably my body, too. It’s reasonable that society says I shouldn’t murder and that I shouldn’t smoke crack, but how the hell can they have the right to tell me I have to work and maybe even take psycho pills? Why is it that whenever I want to do something in life, someone or something is there to say no, you can’t do that, and there’s never a damn thing I can do about it? What they say always goes when it comes to how I live my life and what I do with my body.

Paul says he’s going to ask for a probation officer who deals with mental health (I guess I’d have to see their doctors too, who’ll be predisposed to believing I’m crazy), but in the end, everything’s up to the judge. Up to this person who doesn’t know me and could never understand why certain things are just too damn hard for me.

Why is God doing this to me? Is there some hidden purpose behind all this shit that I can’t see? Is this more than just a punishment? Is this supposed to lead to something I can’t see? After all, I’ve been saying that due to all the appointments and shit going on, I felt like he was preparing me for something. Something fast-paced that’d keep me on my toes and cause me to have to keep a schedule regularly. Well, I knew all along that thing wouldn’t be a kid, so what the hell’s going on? Is he trying to turn me into a career woman? Well, he should’ve done that back when I was in the city if that’s what he’s aiming at here. Does he want me to fit in with 85% of the female population by working? But I don’t want to “fit in.” I just want to live my life in peace with the right to be a homemaker. Without the freeloaders, courts or cops butting into it.

For the next year, I thank God Tom is the way he is and that I’m sterile. At least he can rest assured that I won’t want us to do a thing about the way we are for at least a year, maybe even a few years. Or maybe even never, cuz there’s no fitting that into our schedule with all life’s bullshit. I mean, I don’t see how we could fit that in in the future any more than we could’ve in the past/present, so pressure or requests to seek help for change is something he’s definitely not going to have to worry about for quite a while.

Don said it wasn’t in his report, the being dragged to the police station in January, told it was over when it wasn’t, the subpoena I never got, being arrested and jailed overnight in July. How convenient. Did they neglect to report that to Don to cover for the fact that they lied to me and infringed upon my rights by not arraigning me within the proper time frame? Probably so. Well, it doesn’t matter in the end what rights or rules the cops or courts fuck up on or break altogether. They can get away with anything and do anything they damn well please.

I get victimized and badgered by these sick fucks for years, send a letter and make a call letting them know just how I feel about it, and now I have to pay an outrageous $40 a month for it, be forced to find a way to work out of the house and give up my job as a homemaker, be forced to see doctors and therapists God knows how many times a week, and be doped up for it, too. Life’s just great! Maybe I was better off listening to their fucking music and ball games. At least it didn’t cost any money and I could keep my life the way it is as far as keeping house goes.

I’m never gonna break free of the freeloaders and their effects on me and my life. Before they owned my right to peace and my mental state, and it was in their hands whether or not I slept. Now they own it all. Everything I do is in their hands. I just can’t hear or see them, that’s all. However, if I’m forced to move into the city so I can work, I’ll be back with the bangers and all the shit that goes with being in the city. When we first moved and were forced to go into the city to the hotels, I felt like the city just wouldn’t quite loosen its grip on me. It was like it was hesitant to let me go. Now I feel like it’s calling me back. Like God’s unhappy with me being a rural person. He wants me back in the city with the freeloaders and courts in control of my life/body.

You don’t know just how bad I’d like to get a hold of that scrawny little black neck and choke the life right out of that sick bitch – ugh! However, at this point, I’d rather just move the fuck on!!! I want them out of my life much more so than to bash their skulls in!!!

My mind’s racing back and forth between just waiting and seeing what they say next Monday, to not even bothering to show up, to not bothering to do a damn thing they say after the 30th if I’m not in jail, to going to jail and letting them pay for everything and saving our money, to killing myself.

Don said that as he tells everyone, “Expect the worst and hope for the best.” Yeah, right! I expect the worst, but how can I hope for the best? There’s no hope for me with this case, trust me.

I also learned that he’s not my probation officer. All he is is a pre-sentencing court reporter who talks to all parties involved and then gives the info to the judge. I’m sure my probation officer will be black or Mexican. Why not assign the “racist” to the people they’re supposed to hate, huh? That’s no doubt what they’re thinking, but hey, as long as they’re fair I don’t care what color or race they are.

Later…

I also left a message for Helen yesterday, asking that she mail to our PO Box the fact that I feel very uncomfortable around people, and therefore, working would be very stressful for me. Me and people just don’t mix. I clash with them and they clash with me. They always have a complaint or problem with me and I can’t deal with their incompetent, contradictory, and sometimes devious ways. I can’t stand evil little people lying to my face and then laughing about it at my expense behind my back. If I were to keep my mouth shut I’d be considered stuck-up, and if I were to talk they’d have a problem with just anything I could say. Anyway, I don’t know what Helen can do or if it’d even help, but we’ll see. Meanwhile, she gave me a log for our appointments.

I wonder if the courts won’t demand things of me they know damn well I couldn’t do, so they can have an excuse to throw me in jail, simply because they just don’t like me.

When I first got up, I wondered how I could possibly even make it through the day cuz I was such a bundle of nerves. Well, not that I’m now this object of tranquility and serenity, but I actually felt my nerves calm a bit after finally breaking down and pleading with God to ease up on me. I can’t ask him to stop the very shit he obviously wanted to start, but I begged him to help me with my nerves. He’s the last person I wanted to lower myself to running to, what with all he’s let happen to me. It must’ve been just a coincidence that I felt calmer, cuz why would he help the very people he hurt? I wonder how I’m gonna manage the sleep aspect of it. I’m getting less and less sleep cuz although I’m getting up a half-hour earlier each day, this does not mean I’m able to go to bed earlier.

Tom said he saw Dennis, who mentioned the clothes I left in the trailer. He said there was a whole drawer full of stuff. Really? I thought I only left 3 pairs of shorts. Anyway, he told Tom that after he goes on a hunting trip, he’ll bring in the stuff. That was honest of him to mention it and to say he’ll bring it in. I don’t have to have the stuff back, but it would be nice.

Don finally called. He called at 9:30 wanting to see if I’d be around later so he can call me later on this afternoon to ask me a couple of questions pertaining to my interview (which is no doubt gonna be about money). As friendly as he sounded, I’m not looking forward to our chat. Oh, how I wish I could snap my fingers and have it be October 31st! But why does he have to call just to “see if I’ll be around?” Can’t he just call when he’s ready to and find out? Makes me wonder who he may be sending out here. After being bullshitted by the cop with the Robin H story and possibly by Mr. Biased who told me this was over, I don’t know who or what to believe, and now I’m beyond just nervous – I’m scared! I’m hoping I can at least find out more of what’s going to be going on today, like how much more money we’re gonna lose over this, etc.

Ratsy still looks like he’s dying. Every day he gets weaker and weaker, yet every time I think he’s reached the end, he lives on!

I’m too wound up to get into yesterday’s visit to Helen’s and other things, so I’ll do it later.

Later…

Having nothing more to do tonight that I feel like doing, I’ll get some writing done. I’ll discuss Helen, then Don, although I don’t expect I’ll finish writing all I’ve got to say tonight. Actually, let me cover some little odds and ends first.

We discussed getting a male and female mouse from different stores this weekend so we can start breeding them (hopefully), but we’re gonna wait and make sure I don’t end up in jail first. So, we’ll get them on Monday if I’m not in jail.

We stopped at Walgreens after Helen’s and got a few treats. A few new toys, you could say. For just a buck I got a cute, pink beanbag mouse. Got another Barbie in a pink, purple, red, and white squared dress with pink boots, a couple more puzzles, and some cologne. I got that musk scent I had before, only this one’s got body glitter in it. I also got a scent called Sunflowers. I was surprised that with a name like that, it smells so good. It’s the best one yet, next to the musk which is just about my favorite. Getting a 4-pack of body sprays last year was a dumb mistake, cuz one of them turned out OK, another was almost OK, and the other two were stunk. It’s best to do what I did; the second to last time we were in Walgreens, I sprayed a tester on myself and gave myself time to decide whether or not I liked it. You can’t always tell right away. At least I can’t.

When we got home, I thought – oh, shit! We’re just in time for a show from Dan, but once we got inside the house, he either shut up or didn’t gun that loud. So far, his motors haven’t been as loud as they were last year.

OK, onto Helen. Helen was kind enough to give me a piece of paper with information she copied from somewhere regarding Tom’s problem. I was astonished to learn that his problem is fairly common, and for the first time since knowing him, I believe there’s a damn good chance he really is telling the truth to the best of his ability. This doesn’t mean I’m not right about his subconscious fear of a kid, but at least I’ve learned that there’s a 99% chance he is being honest with me (I didn’t expect this out of therapy!).

Woke up a bit tired today. I’m sure I’ll be more tired each day through Monday. Probably even past that, cuz they’ll no doubt make me see Don and Helen next week too, so no sleeping in for me for what’ll no doubt be months.

It’s been pretty stormy for the last few days, but it looks like it may finally clear up now. Yesterday it rained like hell. No thunder and lightning, just lots of rain in patches. Instead of the hard rains monsoons normally bring, it rained fairly light off and on and for longer periods of time, although there were a few times when it was really coming down. When I got up today, I couldn’t see any of the surrounding mountains. They were all fogged out. The sun’s just now starting to burn away the clouds, but it’s still down to 60 degrees.

After doing so well, I’ve been stuck since Friday, thanks to the stress over the freeloaders. They even own my shit system and dictate when I can shit!

Helen’s office called yesterday saying Helen had to cancel our Saturday appointment, so I’m going in to waste another of our much-needed $25 tonight at 6:00. If she’s more than a few minutes late again, I’m gonna have to really stress to her that she needs to be punctual or I’m gonna have to see someone else. I’d have preferred to meet this Saturday, cuz it’d be closer to Monday than today is, but oh well.

Speaking of $25, I won $25 on a scratch ticket yesterday, plus two more bucks on another! I’ve never won that much before on a scratch ticket! He hasn’t either.

One of my biggest concerns going to court, even bigger than my concern of jail, is the money they’re gonna suck out of us. They’re gonna milk us dry! I know they will! And just how much of the hundreds of dollars are gonna end up in the freeloaders’ pockets, further humiliating me and damaging me emotionally? I’m already scarred for life cuz of these sick fucks, but have I asked God for help? Of course not! Why would I ask the very being who set all this shit up in the first place for help? He wanted these people to fuck with me, so no amount of begging and pleading would get him to call them off. He’s the one that had to sic them on me in the first place, so you think he gives a damn about how I’m feeling? Ha! He knowingly and intentionally made sure all this would happen. Why I don’t know. The only reasons I can think of are that he did it because I got away with shit in the past and because he just plain old doesn’t like me. He simply wants to punish me and he’s using them as a weapon to get at me. Another reason is that in his eyes, I rebelled against what he wanted for me. He wanted me to have noisy neighbors and I tried to fight it. Well, this is what I get for trying to get out of it, obviously.

I cannot begin to express the emotional damage jail would do to me, if that’s where I ended up. If I think I’m emotionally damaged enough as it is, I doubt I could ever recover from being sent to jail. I’m not gonna even recover from this! If I picked on innocent people - picked on them with way more than just words on paper or an answering machine - that’d be different. But these are people that provoked me for no reason at all and I spoke out about it. I simply gave them a piece of my mind. Going to jail would be literally taking my life. I wouldn’t be able to rock when I got out, since sitting in that position takes regularity. I’d be a stranger to Houdini, my muscle tone would be gone, and I’d no doubt be unable to have sex again - there’s no end to what it’d do to me. I don’t think, this time around, I could just kiss ass and turn the other cheek, if I got sent to jail. I don’t think I could just “take it.” I really think I’d need to hunt their asses down and literally kill them. I’ve been itching with the desire to kill them for years now, so imagine how that’d escalate if I ended up jailed any more than I already have been for these fucking freeloaders.

How can God be so mean? How can he be so damn cruel and insensitive as to let these people harass and victimize me for years and make me pay for it all because I sent a letter and made a phone call about it?! Does he really not have one ounce of sympathy and mercy for me? Did he feel my life was too empty and boring that he had to go and sic these freeloaders on me? What? Did he feel that since a kid would be too much for me to handle, and since I’m not in a position to work or have a career of any kind, I should at least be victimized by people who should’ve been a part of my past as of April 4th, 1999? These freeloaders will never be a part of my past. Never! And I don’t see how I can ever heal or get over what they’ve done to me. I can’t just “walk away,” can’t just “ignore them” and their effects on me.

Meanwhile, I expect to hear from Paul and Don this week for sure.

Oh, and also – Tom said that at this point, the Paul’s out of it and it’s up to the judge and the probation department from here on out. I don’t know about that, but if he’s right, it’s not very consoling to know that two people who don’t even know me from a hole in the wall are going to sit in judgment of me. Even I’d think I looked back with the case presented as it is, never knowing, witnessing, and living through what they put me through, and never knowing me. They don’t know a damn thing about me.

It still bothers me that I quit smoking, I go to Helen for him, yet what personal changes is gonna make for me? When does he do something so he can cum at least every other time? Again, I know I’m sterile, and I know that he could cum every day and not impregnate me, but I want to see it played out anyhow. It’s just not fair. I make all kinds of personal changes, more for him than for me, yet he won’t lift a finger to change one simple little thing for me, and if he does, it’s only short-term and then he quits. He gives up on everything. I wasn’t asking him to cum for the rest of his life, either. Just for a few consistent months. That’s it. So, to know that’s too much to ask of my own husband is both humiliating and insulting. It really is.

Yesterday’s trip to the dentist wasn’t any more fun than I thought it’d be. Those bottom front teeth sure were sensitive! They stung like hell while he worked on them. The top retainer was OK, but the bottom needed tightening. Just like the last time, Anne assisted the doctor, but I did see Melanie along the way. We said hi and bye to each other as I came and went. My next appointment is for a cleaning and check-up on 12/21.

Now why can’t most blacks be like Anne? Dear, sweet, smart, friendly black Anne?

After the dentist, which fortunately didn’t make me shaky and dizzy this time around, we went to the mall. They’re gonna up my ring from a 4½ to a 5½ by cutting it and adding a plain piece of gold. It’ll cost $25 and will be ready on court day. Then, if I ever miraculously lose weight, I can either put tape or something on the underside of the ring or I can get the extension removed.

After leaving the mall and passing by many different kinds of stores I wished I could shop in, we went to a scummy, Mexican grocery store. It was the only convenient one on the way.

Once back in Maricopa, we stopped at Circle K for the bingo scratch tickets and our usual treats.

It was only 59° when I got up. It’s been storming since yesterday afternoon. Thunder woke me up for a minute early this morning. I slept in today and got up at 9:15. I thought I’d sleep till 10:00 or 11:00, but even though I didn’t, and even though I woke up a few times in between, I feel well-rested. I had a dream that Don sent me a copy of a letter I assume he was to give to the judge, saying how horrible a person I am. I can’t believe I still haven’t heard from Don. Or Paul “reminding” me of court by playing dumb, insisting he missed me in court. If only we had money! I’d skip court, ignore these freeloaders like I’ve been trying to for years now, then pay Sharon, since she’s just too nice to stiff.

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be in for a ton of freeloader-related dreams this next week. A couple of nights ago I dreamt Houdini nearly escaped forever by crawling into the overflow drain in the bathroom sink, which in the dream, was wide enough for a rat to crawl through.

I even gave up on sleeping together, at least for a while. We started to last night, and he didn’t move/snore too badly, but I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be dealing with it. I’m just too nervous at this point. Although I appreciate his understanding, patience, and tolerance, I still feel bad. If only I never lived in the NHA. If only! Besides, what’s the point of being normal when this works for us? It’s like what Helen said about his not dealing with his not cumming – it works for him. Well, we can still love each other when sleeping separately. As long as we’re together in the sense that matters, we don’t need to share the same bed, cuz I just don’t like sharing a bed. I just don’t like it. It just doesn’t feel right. Maybe someday, if and when there’s ever less stress and less bullshit going on in our lives, I’ll try again to adapt to it, but I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet. Life’s always been one thing after another after another. For now, though – fuck being normal. There’s nothing normal about this relationship anyway. Never has been, never will be. Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be fair to say there’s nothing normal about it, but most things about it aren’t.

On our way out yesterday, I was pissed to realize I forgot the books to use for credit at the bookstore, but anyway, I got 6 books. All but one are full size and 5 of them are a V.C. Andrews series.

After the bookstore, we went to Walgreens and they had that Turbie Twist towel! I love it too, and it really works well. I had my doubts at first that it’d dry hair faster cuz it looked/felt just like a regular towel, but it did dry it faster. Even if it didn’t, it’s nice just to have a convenient way of getting it up and out of the way till it dries. I hated having to have it plastered to me and dripping for nearly an hour. That reminds me - Mom said Mary was looking for the one they’ve got to bring to me, but she couldn’t find it. Yeah, that’s something Mary would do – lose a towel. That’s what a slob she is. Anyone who can’t find a towel, especially one like that, lives in major clutter. Leave it to Mary to be that disorganized and unable to find things. Just like Tom can’t find anything in his office. And Mary’s place isn’t just a mess, it’s filthy!

I also got a pair of colorful gloves for a couple of bucks. They’re knit gloves that are small and said to stretch to fit anyone. They help keep my hands from feeling chafed while I row, but I do the exercises without them.

I got strawberry-kiwi lip gloss in a shiny tube, a puzzle with palm trees and flowering bushes, two pairs of panties, and a sports bra.

Tom said he saw rubber spiders and rubber rats but forgot to show them to me (we had split up for a while).

On our way back through all the cloud coverage, we could see individual storm cells, as Tom said they’re called. Even though it’s still cloudy out, it looks like the storms could be over, although there’s no way to know for sure at this point. I hope they are over. I’d like to sleep tonight, seeing how I’ve got my dentist appointment tomorrow, and how it’d be safer to drive in drier weather.

More annoying commercials – they have this stuff to kill mice for those who consider them pests, but what about stuff to kill dogs that some of us consider pests? You know, as in a couple of collies that barked non-stop and probably still do? I’m not there anymore, though, so you never know.

Yes, Dan’s definitely over there. He was quiet yesterday, thanks to the storms, but Friday night he gave us an engine-gunning spree. The gunning didn’t go on for hours, but long enough to be annoying and to tell me he was there. Also, the ‘for sale’ sign says the place is for sale by owner. Well, the owner kind of has to be there in order to sell it by the owner, don’t they? As long as we don’t get anything worse in there, I’m glad his place is up for sale. He needs to go. Tom says the place will take years to sell, but I doubt that. Especially if God’s planning on sending us noisier assholes to live over there, like he loves to do, so it’ll depend on how desperate he is to stick the same old shit near me.

I’m pretty sure I also heard music a few times Friday night too (that’s what I get for bragging about how quiet it’s been), but I’m not sure if all of it came from Dan. It could’ve been bangers cruising around.

Later...

He doesn’t get it. He just doesn’t get it. As soon as he said there was nothing to deal with today, I knew he didn’t get it. I was stressing big time about the fucking freeloaders (if I’m this stressed out a week in advance, imagine how I’ll be next weekend)! and they were on my nerves so much that I could barely concentrate on making chili mac and pudding for Tom. I don’t know, he just comes off as being as non-empathetic as he was when I wanted a kid really bad and it bothers me. It even hurts to know he doesn’t feel an ounce of anger towards these freeloaders for what they’ve put me through. He said being angry wouldn’t help things, but how can he not feel a bit of anger towards these fucking assholes? How could I not feel anger towards anyone who hurt him? What should I do if someone decided to strangle Houdini? Say, “Oh, well. Getting angry won’t change or help anything.” Is that what I should say? I don’t think so! I envy Tom and his ability to control his emotions, but I can’t just click off and ignore things I can’t or don’t want to deal with or that can’t be changed as he can. And to say there’s nothing to deal with today – ha! For who? For him maybe, but for me – I have to deal with all this stress these freeloaders continue to cause me as if we all still lived together as one big miserable bunch.

I tried calling Paula like I said I would this weekend, but got no answer. I left a message.

I came up with a brilliant idea the other night; to take pictures off the TV from frozen videos. I tried to pause videos and take pictures from the other TV, but it wouldn’t work. The glare I got off the glass made it look too washed out, but because this is a plastic screen, you don’t get a glare from it. The pictures don’t look great, but they look good enough. I took some still shots of Kate the other night.

Later…

Tom just went out to see when the next storm will come. No doubt when I’m asleep. Anyway, he said there’s a flash flood watch in effect, and that some places got really bad flooding.

Tom said that just because he doesn’t always show his emotions doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. I envy him! How I wish I was like him, not showing my emotions. I wish I didn’t feel the need to express my emotions and concerns cuz most of the time it just causes trouble. He said he chooses to be the way he is. Why can’t I choose to be the way I want to be? What blessed him with such control? He does it a little too well if you ask me. Sometimes it makes me feel like he has no feelings, no empathy, and like he’s trying to hide things.

Tom came back in saying that it may not rain if it keeps going in the direction it’s going in.

Later…

Tom’s in bed now. He went to bed early so he could get up earlier. Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with any boring bed sessions. He took advantage of my stress, as I hoped he would, to bail his own disinterested self out of it.

I was in the second bath just now when I heard this metallic sound like someone trying to bust into our shed. Good, I thought, now I can legally do whatever I want to this person (unless they shoot me down and make sure I never get up) cuz they’re trespassing. And if the courts find me guilty, they’ll make me a very rich woman, cuz I’ll sue the fuck out of them for denying me the right to defend myself and my property.

However, as far as I could tell, the sound wasn’t coming from this property, next door, Dan’s, or the renters. It was coming from the front of the house. My first impression was that it was coming from the house two lots in front of next door (the lot in front of them is empty like the one in front of us still is). The sound, which you could hear loud and clear in the house, sounded like someone throwing something into a dumpster, just like when Tom would throw roofing material in the dumpster we rented. I can’t see anyone on the roof of that house, although I can only see a tiny portion of it from here. When I went outside I couldn’t see anything either, but man was it loud! It sounded almost explosive-like at one point like it was many miles away and may have come from the northeast, rather than the southeast, but it’s definitely something being thrown into a metal bin of some kind. Maybe they’re packing up what’s left of that trailer that burned. From inside the house, it sounds like the equivalent of one or two houses away in Phoenix. Remember, there’s nothing in between us and this sound to block it, so it sounds closer than it really is. It wouldn’t wake me up if I had the fan on, but it’d definitely wake me up without it. It’s not a constant sound. I hear a few bangs and then nothing for a while. It’s like they’re doing whatever it is they’re doing in little spurts.

I forgot to say that yesterday morning, just before 8:00 when the power was out, I heard the renter’s motorcycle. I thought, oh please! Don’t go revving that engine just because the power’s out and you want attention, but this time it actually went somewhere. Either that or they stopped almost as quickly as they started. I saw smoke coming from over there too, like they were burning trash.

It’s still quiet music-wise, and I haven’t seen any cars on Meadow Green in weeks. I shouldn’t keep marveling in this journal about how quiet it’s been, though. That’ll only make them start their shit up again!

Later...

Gonna watch the old rerun of Charlie’s Angels that’s going on at 1:00. For now, I thought I’d write some more.

It didn’t get as cold as I thought it’d get yesterday morning and we didn’t need heat. In fact, in another hour or two, I’ll probably need to AC it a little.

Forget about writing for now. I’m gonna go put the oldies channel on and get today’s work done, which is the dining and living area.

Later...

Kate looked great – damn great! This is really cool having a crush on her all over again. It’s like it’s a brand-new crush, cuz I wasn’t exactly blossomed enough sexually as a 10-year-old to have the kind of crush on her that I do now. The younger her, that is. She’s tall and she has the dark hair and eyes I like with a beautiful smile, although I never really had a height preference. She’s also one of the very few women I thought looked better with her hair shorter. I’d never have guessed more than half my life ago that I’d be drooling all over her at nearly 35 years of age. Meanwhile, blond-haired, blue-eyed Carol Kane wore off of me as fast as she turned me on.

It’s amazing how poorly Kate’s aged compared to Jaclyn and Cheryl (Farrah declined the request to be interviewed). Jaclyn and Cheryl only look about 10 years older than when they were on Charlie’s Angels, but not Kate!

During the interview when all the different people were discussing the show, it mentioned those that bitched about it, insisting it was “jiggle TV,” yet as one guy put it, no one calls it jiggle TV when a cock appears on TV scantily clad. Anyone that had a problem with Charlie’s Angels must be dying over today’s TV. This is what I mean when I bitch about life’s little control freaks. Why the fuck do these people have to try to control things and get this shit off the air when all they have to do is just not watch it! Who’s making these ass wipes watch stuff they don’t want to see? You may not be able to throw away and ignore a pack of rowdy freeloaders a few feet away from you, but you can ditch and ignore mail and TV shows you’re not interested in.

Tom put the door sweep on the bottom of the bedroom door. It keeps the ratdog out when I don’t feel like chasing him around, although I do let him play the hide and seek game he loves so much every now and then, and let him go hide in the closet, under the bed, the walker.

The air cleaner had been making funny noises like it was gonna die, but Tom fixed it. He opened it up and vacuumed out all the dust that was inside, and contrary to what we thought, that was apparently the cause of the funny sound it made cuz it’s sounded normal ever since.

OK, so I know I won’t ever be president, a parent, a natural blond, a millionaire, nor will I ever have 4 legs and 9 arms, but I just don’t know that I won’t be sent to jail. You never know what was an act. Meaning, all of Paul’s reassurances could’ve been pure bullshit. There’s no way to be sure of what’s really in his mind and the minds of his associates. He could know, could’ve always known, that I’d end up in jail in the end, and of course he’d lie about it and tell me not to worry. He could hate people with big green eyes as much as I hate bees. Given his position, that’s all it’d take to make sure I lost my freedom, not that I haven’t lost enough of it as it is. No one sees the big picture here – that they abused and victimized me for years. And Tom too, since he’s had to deal with their shit as well, and its effect on me. They don’t care that I sent words and not bombs. I can’t believe how much the laws have changed and how bold people have become! Yes, they will embarrass and implicate themselves to get at you. People’s anger greatly overrides any sense of logic, fear, embarrassment, or shame they may have and all they know is that they want to “get you.” And like I said, that bitch didn’t get scared – she got pissed.

Signing in on a stormy, rainy day. Just when it seemed that all we’d have was tons of thunder and a little lightning, the rains came. I just hope we don’t lose power again for the next 15 minutes so my potato can finish cooking. I noticed that I seem to be a bit more regular if I have my daily potato towards the beginning of my day, rather than at the end. Anyway, there was quite a bit of lightning when I went to bed last night at 1:00, then the thunder woke me up at 7:30, an hour and a half before I was scheduled to get up. The power was out for a little while, too. I swear I’ve been woken up more in the near year we’ve been here, than all the time in the Phoenix house! At first it was gunshots, cops, and booms. Now it’s storms, strange or unpleasant dreams, or just because. A lot of the time I wake up for no apparent reason at all. What’s worse is knowing I can’t do a rollover if I want to after the 30th. The freeloaders will be running my life all the more at that point and I’ll have at least two appointments a week. And this is just probation and therapy. Who knows just how often I’ll have to do community service? I’m sure I’ll have to, though. It’ll be God’s way of punishing me for bashing the freeloaders of this world. He worships the lazy compared to the hard-working people of this world, I swear!

Later...

It’s only just after 4:00 yet it’s like twilight in here due to the storms that keep coming and going. It’s really coming down this time around, and when you see water running down the wash, you know it rained a lot. It’s only 66 degrees out there now. It’s gonna be cold tonight! Especially right before dawn. I might put the heat on low before I crash or he might put it on when he gets up. I know that if it isn’t on by the time I get up, I’ll definitely need to put it on. The problem is, Tom’s on his way in from grocery shopping and I wonder if he’s gonna make it OK. I don’t have any bad vibes saying he’ll be harmed in any way, but I wonder if he might get stuck for a while. I hope not!

Although it rarely rains in Arizona, I wish we had a garage off the utility. It would keep rain and wind out and cut down on the bugs, too.

When he called from work to tell me he was on his way to the store before coming home, his call came up as out-of-area, and boy did my heart start thumping! I thought it might be Paul calling, and again, even though my logic says I have nothing to worry about, things happen that defy logic all the time in life. Thanks, freeloaders. Thanks a lot. For the stress, I mean. Same goddamn stress they caused me to have when we lived with each other; it’s just a different kind of stress nowadays.

Not that I’m complaining, but my belly’s been flatter lately. I don’t know why, either. Maybe cutting way down on my refined sugar intake really is making a difference. I know being regular helps with that, but I’m sure it’ll bloat back out as I get closer to my period.

Friday night’s sleeping together went well. I woke up several times but only once was it because of him. He and Mom were up before I was both days. Trying to sleep together Saturday night was a different story. Maybe I could’ve done it, but by the time it was past 1:00, I knew I had to give up and move him so I wouldn’t have to have what little sleep I might get broken up as much (he went into the retreat since it wasn’t as comfortable for me on the exercise mat as I thought it’d be). I just couldn’t get to sleep and he was moving and snoring more than the previous night. Wearing an earplug helped, but two nights in a row of trying to be normal was just too much for me. So we agreed to start with one night a week, Friday night, where we sleep together, then slowly build up from there. I just don’t think I can adapt to sleeping with my own husband regularly, though. I didn’t think I could adapt to a life without cigarettes either, so we’ll just have to wait and see. God, think of all the normal, everyday things most couples take for granted that are the impossible dream for me!

I slept later yesterday and didn’t get up till 10:30. I expected to be boomed awake yesterday and today, but it never happened. Still, I managed to get up an hour earlier today.

Boy, am I gonna be busy after the 30th! I’m gonna have to run to the probation officer every week in the beginning and they’ll probably make me see Helen once a week, rather than every other week or longer. Helen was pretty sure they’d let me see her and not make me see one of their own therapists. That’d be nice, cuz although they’d pay for me to see one of their own, that therapist would be biased and would be told the black bitch’s, cop’s, and lawyer’s version of the story and not the truth. Cops and lawyers twist the truth around all the time. They’re like the Dureens, Tammys, and Larrys of this world – sometimes telling all-out lies, frequently telling half-truths, and occasionally telling the whole truth. Not that the therapist couldn’t think what they damn well pleased, but when it’s something that could affect my well-being, then I get a little more cautious and even paranoid.

Oh, I also mentioned my erratic periods to Helen, who says she’s heard of that, too. I would’ve thought that that would be much more common than cumless guys with hard-ons, but who knows just how many shy, embarrassed, private, conservative, prudish Tom S there are out there who don’t discuss their problem? Tom will never do anything to change his ways not so much out of shame or embarrassment, but because as Helen said – it works for him. He’s OK with the way he is and therefore, he’s OK with living with it and not changing it. I also feel that just like with myself, he doesn’t want a kid bad enough to do the work required to get me pregnant, be it naturally or not.

Saw a big white pickup park at the far corner of Dan’s property this morning. The one furthest from us, in the back adjacent to the renter’s land. I couldn’t tell what they were doing. They were stooping down by the truck a lot as if they were examining something on the ground. I saw two guys through binoculars. One in a blue shirt, the other wearing that classic white T and white cap Dan loves, but I couldn’t say if it was him or not. After a little while, they got in the truck and headed towards the middle of the land where they parked amongst the tons of cars and trucks that always sit there. They were so far away that I couldn’t tell if they were fat or thin. Just that they were male, their shirt colors, and that one wore a cap. I couldn’t see their pants. The white tee and cap say Dan is there, but the strange lighting, the gate being opened differently, the neighbors seen going there, and the quietness, all point to Dan’s absence.

I wonder if George will try to buy Dan’s place, chop it up and put rentals on it, but if Dan’s really over there, or is OK somewhere in this world with anything to say about it, he might refuse to sell to George cuz he was just as upset that George split the land up to renters. I don’t know why since Dan could get noisy himself and was no neat freak, but he didn’t like it. And the people next door may not like it, either. So, since Dan and next door were friendly enough for next door to watch Dan’s place when he’d go to Indiana, he may refuse to sell to George as a favor to next door. And maybe even to the people further up Bitter Root that Tom saw turn into his place.

The sad thing about it is that I just can’t imagine any decent, quiet people buying that little dive. I think it’ll go to a young white male who plays drums or electric guitars and blasts his stereo, or maybe all of the above. If not, it’ll go to some huge Mexican family. They wouldn’t mind huddling into an old single-wide like that. Whoever moves in there will no doubt make Dan seem like he was very quiet, and I know it won’t be a single woman. Women care more about the looks of things than guys do, although I’d never guess someone like Samantha H would want our old house, either. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe it was Chris’s idea and she just went along with it.

Anyway, I am truly amazed at how quiet and peaceful it’s been. It appears my guess was right about the freeloaders getting fed up with their stereo crapping out to these roads and so they split. Not only have I not heard that stereo, but I also haven’t seen that pickup. Maybe they were just visiting for part of the summer, though, who knows? Or maybe God did us and the rest of society a favor and rammed them and their damn truck into a wall or something.

No music from the renters. Not even the motorcycle lately. There’s a blue car that’s always over there. It never moves as far as I can tell, and I never see any other vehicles come or go, so they must be parked where I can’t see them, and they must slip in and out when I’m not looking back there. I rarely look back there, anyway. I’m not into spying like I used to be. I just don’t want to know my neighbors exist. Period.

When Mary and Dave came to get Mom, we showed them the mural and its bloopers and explained what we planned to do with it to fix it up. Mary thought it was cool, but Dave didn’t seem too impressed.

From what I gather, Mary doesn’t like her mother-in-law and her buddy that much. She’s “kind of” enjoying their visit, she said, which tells me they must be a bit pushy and domineering, judging by her tone of voice (sound familiar?). Either that or they’re ditzy. I guess they came in earlier than was agreed on and Mary wasn’t too happy with that.

Later…

Tom’s home now. He said he and 15 other employees got taken to a fancy Mexican restaurant for lunch for working on a project involving how they deal with their canceled checks.

He also said a small old trailer about 8 miles from here completely burned. We don’t know if it was arson, old and faulty wiring, or what.

The weather had begun cooling down, but it’s warmed up a bit again. As of the last few days, we only need the AC from around noon – 6:00. The rest of the time we need nothing.

I’m so sick of these beggar commercials – ugh! Poor people in poor countries want our money to support the kids they should’ve been responsible enough not to have. I mean, if these people knew they were poor, why’d they have kids? They have kids they can’t afford, then expect us to pay for them – give me a break! And why do all the beggars pick on us Americans? Can’t they beg for free handouts elsewhere for a change?

Later...

I’m getting a bit stressed over the 30th again. Helen’s advice just doesn’t always cut it. So many things could go wrong. For example, the paper the interview lady gave me said to report to Don. If Don wanted to, for whatever twisted or biased reason, he could deny that we ever spoke and then how the hell would I prove that the interview lady said I could call and not bother going to his office cuz of how remote I am? How would I prove that I did speak to Don, despite the fact that phone records could be obtained? It’s his word against mine. Anything’s possible in this world. Well, almost anything. Due to how far this shit’s already gone, the sky’s the limit. It’s just so damn easy to get in deep shit with the law. It used to be you had to harm someone before any action was taken against you. Now, even threats are more than enough to get you in trouble. You can write the most non-threatening thing you want and all a person has to do is simply not like what you had to say. Period. Or not like the person who wrote it. I could’ve written that bitch about my doll collection and all she’d have to do is call the cops and insist she felt threatened by me and scared of me, and that’s it. Down I go. I told Tom that I had thought about using the new laws to my advantage for a change and having her dragged through the mud. Meaning that I may not be able to get her into court and she may not get thrown in jail, but I could at least put her through the hassle of getting arrested if I called the cops swearing she drove by twirling guns in my face or something like that, but I’d rather not lower myself to her level, and as Tom said, it’d be a bitch cuz I’d have to take the time to swear out a statement and all that shit, and I’ve already spent enough time on this sick fuck. Again, it just goes to show how determined, vindictive, vengeful, and spiteful the bitch is to take the time and effort to do what she’s done. I don’t want to use the law to “get them” like they’ve done with me. I just want them out of my life!!!!!! Again, whether she deserved it or not, whether it was legal or not, we all get mail we don’t like or want and no one made her read my mail. All she had to do was throw it out and ignore it, but she just couldn’t let go and move on. She just couldn’t.

Helen was 10 minutes late this time, instead of 20, and I did not enjoy the wait in the waiting room. No, there weren’t any loud and destructive kids, but there was this spider walking along the ceiling that was creeping me out. It was getting closer and closer and just when I thought it was going to center itself over my head and string down on its web right onto my head, Helen rescued me.

We had gone to Circle K before Helen’s where I grabbed some coffee, but I finished it before she called me into her office. Found those flavored lip balms I love, though. I have strawberry, raspberry, and watermelon.

This time Helen gave more input. While I discussed my never-ending freeloader frustrations, I mostly discussed Tom’s lack of cumming, and here’s where she surprised me. She believes him. She actually believes he’s telling the truth to the best of his ability, but no, we don’t know for sure what’s in his subconscious. She also surprised me by letting me know that she has heard of guys who could get hard, but not cum!

I don’t know. I want to believe him, but then how do you explain a lot of the things he’s said and done? His actions don’t support his being truthful, but maybe he is. Just maybe he is.

When I told Helen I was OK with not having a kid, but not OK with having my choice taken away from me as to whether or not to have a kid, she said that maybe God didn’t take it away. Maybe it just hasn’t been time yet. Well, there are a lot of things in this world I don’t know, but if there’s one thing I most certainly do know, it’s that there is no such thing as the right time to have a kid in my life. If the right time hasn’t come yet, it never will. Also, yes God did take away my choice.

Helen also believes things happen for a reason and says that if I get pregnant, it’s for a reason. Yeah, and if I don’t it’s for a reason, too. The only two reasons for it that I can see are to punish me and because I couldn’t handle it. That much is obvious and that much I do know. What better way to punish a female you hate than to take away her choices as to what she can do with her own body and life? Also, as the weekend proved, I may be able to sleep with Tom and sleep fairly well enough every once in a while, but I couldn’t do it regularly. I just can’t function after losing just a couple of nights’ sleep, so this only reinforces my belief that God stole my choice knowing I couldn’t handle it. How could I? If I can’t lose more than a few nights’ sleep, how would I handle losing a few months’ sleep? God and I both also know I couldn’t handle carrying and having a child either but knowing this, he should’ve and could’ve at least made sure that I never wanted one. But because he did let me want something he knew damn well I couldn’t have; this is where the obvious punishment aspect of it comes in.

When I told Helen that most of the blacks I’ve known proved to be assholes and wondered if just maybe there was something about having darker skin that tends to make people more prone to acting out, just like most redheads have freckles, she said her experience with blacks has been different than mine.

It figures. Why do I have to be the one to have all the negative experiences?

Anyway, Helen was reading me a little poem all about attitude and its influence on the outcome of things, but I’m sorry, I just don’t agree. I just don’t see the connection, and I know I’ve written about this before, too. There have been lots of times that I went into something with a positive attitude only to get negative results, and vice versa.

Helen also insisted that I do everything I can to try not to worry about my upcoming court date till I see her again on the 28th of this month. Much easier said than done, I told her, and she said she understood it’d be hard. Still, if I can do it for 5 minutes, that’s 5 fewer minutes I have to worry about it.

She seemed pretty confident that they wouldn’t put me in jail but warned me of fines. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. Anything’s better than jail, but none of this should’ve happened in the first place! None of it!!! Not the January trip to Phoenix, not the July trip to Florence, not the court dates, not the time and money spent – none of it! These freeloaders should be paying me for all the shit they put me through, and Tom too, since he’s had to deal with its effects on me.

Why do I always lose in the end? Huh?! Everyone else gets away with the shit they do, yet I always go down for it. I never ever win!

Helen, who says she also respects and understands that I don’t want to be there (in her office), suggested I not worry about them, because they’ve completely forgotten me and aren’t thinking or worrying about me for a millisecond. I thought about this and realized just how right she is – they’re not thinking or worrying about me. How blessed they are, huh? In fact, a lot of those times I thought they did things with me in mind; they probably didn’t. Meaning yes, after a few complaints they did do things deliberately to provoke me throughout the years we lived together, but a lot of it was without thought cuz they simply don’t care. They just don’t care. They came into that neighborhood without a care in the world, as if they owned it, never thinking of me or anyone else around them. In fact, half of the time, if someone had reminded them that there were other houses on the street, they would’ve been like, “Really? Oh yeah, that’s right. There are. We’re not the only ones in this world,” as if they’d totally forgotten.

Anyway, that’s all I can really think of as far as my visit to Helen goes. As always, if I remember anything else along the way, I’ll add it in.

After seeing Helen, we went to Lowe’s to pick up the mural and a few other odds and ends. I also got a faceplate for the den with vines of green leaves, and 5 rolls of different colored neon twine. I made Mom a bookmark that was supposed to be a bracelet, only I misjudged how much material I’d need. I’ve never made those kinds of bracelets with twine before.

We put up the mural on Saturday, but it didn’t go well. It tore in a few places, acquired gaps between one of the 4 panels as it dried and shrunk, wasn’t lined up very well in some areas, and had bubbles. Amazingly, most of the bubbles had smoothed out by the next day. Nonetheless, it’s beautiful and I love it. We’re going to buy some trim to cover up the edges, as well as crisscross the center of it, and make it look like it’s a big window. This will hide tears, gaps, and areas that are misaligned.

Later...

When Tom came home he brought me a notice to appear for jury duty. Aaarrrggghhh!!! Cops, courts, blacks, Mexicans, probation, jail, lawyers, juries – when’s it ever end?! Anyway, it was for Maricopa County residents only, so I checked the box stating that I no longer reside in that county (this is Pinal County).

I made Tom some chili mac and he’ll be making me the rest of the bacon we got, so I won’t have to get splattered with grease.

I saw a really neat show talking about Charlie’s Angels, my all-time favorite show from the 70s, and interviews with the angels later in life. I didn’t know Kate Jackson, my favorite angel who now looks like shit, had heart surgery and breast cancer. I wish I had my old picture collection. All of them, including Linda and Gloria’s pictures. As you know, they weren’t just pictures to me. They were like individual people, like friends. Anyway, even now the younger Kate is quite appealing to me. Not like Gloria was and like some imaginary characters I made up in my head, but I still think of her from time to time and her pictures too, wondering what it’d be like to reunite with these long-lost pictures.

Anyway, it was great having Mom here. What a difference from when Dureen would visit! I could be myself and enjoy a relaxing, fun atmosphere. Not one filled with tensions and fronts. And you don’t have to constantly entertain her, either. She was content to spend most of the time watching TV and reading one of the books we had. She read half of it and plans to finish it the next time she visits.

She was more with it than I thought she’d be, and pretty independent, too. She only needed help unhooking her bra, getting the water turned on in the shower, going up and down the stairs, and of course, with food, medications, and blood testing. Tom and I tested our own blood too, which is this thing that pricks your finger and is painless. After it pricks you, you squeeze some blood out onto a strip and it reads your sugar level. Ours was normal.

Tom put up a little rail on the side of the bed, but what we really should’ve gotten was a couple of night lights. One for the guest room and one for the bath. We’ll get them as soon as we can. Meanwhile, we left the bathroom light on so she could see well enough. As far as I know, though, she slept well and didn’t need to get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

She has a fork and spoon that are bent at a 90-degree angle, making it easier for her to bring them to her mouth. It wasn’t Tom I had to worry about making gross noises at dinnertime, it was Mom! She was pretty disgusting. She ate like a little animal.

Because of her shaking, she has plastic cups with lids that she uses so she doesn’t slosh her drinks all over. She has two cups for water, juice, soda, and a different one for coffee.

The first night she was here, I cooked the three of us pork chops, then Hamburger Helper the second night.

I showed her various things and she watched me work out while Tom went to Circle K. I enjoyed having her company and having her to chat with while I worked out. It made it go faster and seem less boring, although Bowflex isn’t nearly as boring as floor work, but I totally lost my concentration on counting my reps!

Houdini didn’t seem to mind having her around. It didn’t stop him from coming out like I thought it would. I guess he’s decided to go back to being a night rat, although he still prefers to come out when Tom’s not around.

Later...

Tom finally got around to getting rid of some stuff, since we’ll be needing the money for the freeloaders. He cut out all the premium channels on the TV, cut out Cybertrails, and some stuff on the cell phone.

Tom set up mailboxes so that we can send each other messages. I like having this. It’s fun. I like sending him journal excerpts periodically like I used to via AOL.

I miss the Internet, but not all the problems that come with it. Someday, though, we’ll have faster, better connections. If we can come up with $150 extra bucks, Tom can get the stuff needed to steal free service over the satellite. Pictures that take forever to download by way of the phone will then download instantaneously.

This weekend we’re gonna put a door sweep on the bottom of the bedroom door to block more light, but mostly to keep Houdini out of that area when I don’t feel like chasing him around. I don’t know if it’ll work, though. The bottom of it is flimsy and he may be able to push his way through it and still get under the door.

We’re also gonna put foam weather stripping like we had in Phoenix around the doorjambs. Something we shouldn’t have to do in a brand-new house. But we have to, thanks to the stupid Mexicans who built this house so half-assed. They put the fucking back door on cockeyed, didn’t seal any of them up completely, and God only knows how many little openings there are around the windows that aren’t visible to the naked eye. Even though we just bombed, and even though they can’t live long cuz of it, those little black bugs are raiding this place at night. At night I keep the windows shut cuz they can get through the screen, and they most certainly can get through the door gaps.

Tom surprised me by informing me of the ‘for sale’ sign up at Dan’s place. He never gave any indications of wanting to move when we talked to him, so maybe something happened to him. Maybe that’s why the neighbors seem to be taking care of the place. Either that or he just got so lonely here that he just doesn’t want to come back. His behavior sure cried out for the city and said he was extremely lonely out here. Especially if he’s as gay as I think he is. This is no place for any unattached gay person. Gay people need to be near places where they can meet each other, cuz they usually can’t meet people just anywhere.

Saying I’ve got a lot to write about is an understatement! Mom’s still here but will be gone in about an hour. Mary and Dave will be coming up to get them, leaving Dave’s Mom and her boyfriend at their house.

Paula never did call this weekend like I thought she would, but that’s good since I wouldn’t have been in a position to chat with her. If Mom ever does move in, as much as I doubt she ever will, maybe Tom can install a phone jack somewhere in the master suite, so I can talk to Paula, or whoever, in a more private setting. Mom’s always in the den where the phone is unless she’s at the table eating, or seeing something we’re showing her, or in the guest room.

I have mixed emotions about Mom leaving, although, for the most part, I wish she’d stay. It feels good to have more responsibility and to feel more productive and like I’m helping someone. We’d probably only screw once a month or less with her here, something you know I’m sick of anyway, so she’d be rescuing me from having to do that every 1-3 weeks (we didn’t get together as I predicted). On the other hand, her leaving gives me a little more freedom. Freedom to run around naked, swear, talk loud if I want to, run up and down, etc. If I ran too much with her here, she might think something was wrong. Same if I talk loud, although I did come out of the bedroom late at night in just my panties to get a drink. If this were Tom’s dad and not his Mom, then I’d have thrown a robe on.

The only time I felt a little controlled and uncomfortable was when Tom gave me the eye about a comment I made in regard to a topic he brought up. He brought up the proposition they’ve got going about allowing people to develop homes in certain areas, and it led to my expressing my opinion about having rentals behind us and the noise and destruction Section 8 people bring, should we get stuck with that yet again. First of all, my statement about Section 8 people being scummy was true, and second of all, don’t ever think that just because you’re a guest in my house I’m gonna conform to what others might prefer and put on false airs. I am who I am and no one’s going to take away my freedom within my own home, if I can help it, in unreasonable ways. That’s been done enough, thank you. Meanwhile, I cut out the swears and other things. I need to be myself and not try to predict what others will think of what I say. I can’t control what others think of my opinions/statements, and I don’t want to, either. Any guest in my home is expected to accept and deal with how I live, what I do, and what I say, just like it would be expected of me to respect the ways of others when I visit them. No one has to agree with me when I express my feelings about certain subjects. No visitor has to like everything I say, do, wear, etc., but they do have to accept it, live with it, and not try to change and control it. That’s being too pushy and asking too much of me; if you think I should keep my opinions to myself in my own home. I’ll be reserved and phony in other ways, especially in public or other houses, but not here. Home isn’t the place to be somebody I’m not.

I don’t know that Mom would like to live here, being this remote, and since it would mean she couldn’t go to daycare. She loves daycare way better than sitting at home every day. Whatever’s meant to be, though, will be.

I want to jump back to my session with Helen and go in order of events before getting more into Mom’s stay with us, which has been very enjoyable. Better yet, I’ll do it later or tomorrow. Mary and Dave will be here any sec.