Tom has a cold right now. Now that I’m home, sleeping well, taking vitamins and not around hundreds of sick people, I shouldn’t get it myself. If I can just stay home, I should be alright. I still get so paranoid about that. First there were camps, then came the funny farms and other places, then the shitty apartments, then the Phoenix house, then jail. Well, mark my words - I am not going to be stuck anyplace I don’t want to be ever again!

They’re going to be ordering Tom a pager at work, and the cool thing about it will be that we’ll be able to send each other emails with it.

The babies are walking a little now, but their eyes still aren’t open.

One of the mice got beat up and looks about ready to drop. I hope not cuz it’s one of the best-looking ones, and I’d like to keep my mouse count up till the bear makes her selections.

I began the serious, top-to-bottom cleaning I do every 3 months. Today I did his bath and the utility. Tomorrow, I’ll do the den and his room, then the kitchen, then my office, then the dining and living area, then my room and retreat, then my bath. I’ll work down from one end of the house to the other over the next week.

No cheeks yet this week, though it’s only Monday. I expect him more like next week or the week after that, anyway, but you never know. I decided that anytime I’m up, even though it’s completely asinine to see someone so often over a letter, I’ll just play form with him. That way, I don’t end up ignoring him twice in a row if I’m asleep the next time he comes. I don’t want him getting paranoid and doing anything stupid about it that’ll cause trouble for the both of us. Especially with Tom’s car present. The whole ordeal takes less than two minutes, anyway.

When I came across an old pair of denim shorts the other day, I decided once again to lose weight so I can wear them, cuz denim goes with everything. It’s only 10 pounds. I can barely squeeze into them right now. I have so many tops that I don’t wear too often cuz I don’t have any shorts to go with them. Maybe I’ll find something at the department store we plan to go to next month. I look forward to that. Unlike most places, a dollar goes a long way in a department store. I hope to get new shoes, socks for next winter, a sundress or two, an outfit for Jade and whatever else.

I also decided that it may be nice to go tropical someday, even if we don’t end up on a boat. That way I’ll have lived in a variety of climates, from 4 seasons to the desert, to a tropical place.

I received a letter from Mary two days ago saying that she’s leaving soon. The trial’s set for April 8th. I don’t know where she’ll go from there or for how long. I assume she’ll go to prison in Florida for a number of years, after standing trial in the Gretchen case. Right now she’s testifying in the James case.

I was shocked when she said that Hope’s still her celly. I’ve never known anyone to cell together for 4 months in jail. Not that one, anyway.

I was also a bit surprised to learn Pérez still hasn’t shown up in M Dorm, so I decided to write to her directly. Tom will be mailing the letter tonight (I hope). There’s always the chance that he could be too paranoid about it and not mail it. Maybe he never even mailed Rule’s letter or intends to mail Teddy Bear’s letter, though I’d think he’d tell me so if he were really that adamant against it. Even then, he’d still mail it if I insisted he do so.

I thanked Pérez in my letter to her, explained the real reason I was there, now that I know all the facts, and asked that she send me a note in return as a keepsake to either the PO box address or email address, though I won’t count on it. It sure would be funny if that dream came true, though she wrote the note in person for me and enclosed a picture. I sent her a sheet of a dozen or so pictures from about a decade ago on up till now.

In my letter to Mary, I asked her if she wanted me to make this my final letter to her till she got to wherever she’s going and could tell me how the trial unfolded.

Yesterday Tom put up another ceiling fan at Mary’s place, but you know, I really don’t like how they load him up with crap. He eats enough crap on his own. That’s the one thing I don’t like about people like them. They live like filthy pigs, they eat like filthy pigs, and they expect others to do the same when they’re around them, not that they’d force the food down Tom’s throat if he said no. But it’s hard for even the strongest person to say no to pizza, candy, cookies and all the junk they have. I know I should be happy if he’s happy, but I worry about his health. We’re talking about a guy who doesn’t work out, doesn’t eat things like fish, fruits or vegetables. He lives on turkey hotdogs with cheese, cupcakes and soda.