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.