Tom’s at Mary’s now and I’m spending most of the day fine-tuning journals, besides working out and giving attention to the animals. I’m almost through the first 5 years of journals, but that’s back when I wrote so little. About 200 pages are covering the years 1987-1991 combined, yet twice that many cover 1996. 1996-1999 are too big to be stored on one floppy. After I get done skimming them for their trivial shit and restructuring sentences, I hope to get them onto one disk.

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I spoke to Tom at Mary’s a couple of hours ago. It did turn out to be a ball bearing like he originally thought. The good news is that Ma’s covering the $100 cost. Guess you could say I’m grateful for God ignoring my prayers, as he usually does, back when I’d pray for him to take her. But his was when she was much more of a burden than a help. The question is, what are we gonna do when he does take her?

Anyway, as it’s turned out, the only thing that’ll be spent on this shit is time. Time he should’ve spent lazing around the house. He was sick, he’s been working his ass off - the guy deserves a break! But no, God just had to go and let this happen.

Sometimes I wonder - is God trying to tell us to go into the repair business with the way he has our shit break so often? He just loves to sit back and watch us have to fix shit, but boy I’ll tell you - I am really fucking sick of it! It really gets old! By July we’ll have another breakage crisis. He just won’t let us live in peace for more than 3 months, though anything’s better than being cursed with freeloaders, pigs and jail.

I just want to go shopping next week and for me to see my Teddy Bear. My vibes strongly say that I will, but if I don’t, I’m going to believe I’ve totally lost all my psychicness completely. I’ll give her until June to contact me. If she doesn’t by then, then I’ll destroy her text and picture files and file her away in my brain as just a memory.

But I know that won’t be the case. I know she’s coming. I just hope she’ll still be attracted to me, and that deep down she won’t be disappointed in me for not losing weight. I just don’t want to do it. Period. I like to eat, and besides, I’ve had my thin days, so it’s not like it’s something new that’s so important to me. I just don’t care about my looks as much anymore. As long as I don’t get bigger; that’s all that matters. Meanwhile, I’ve been chunky for years now and I know I always will be. This is how I’m meant to be, or else I wouldn’t be this way, and I don’t care to lose weight that’ll only come right back. I’m big everywhere except for my calves and forearms. I only hope she doesn’t mind. She shouldn’t. I mean, she’s twice as big as I am, after all, and doesn’t seem the type to base relationships solely on looks. I look close to how I looked in jail, so I guess that if she could be attracted to me back then, she could still be attracted to me.