Another picture was downloaded from Mystery’s Dolls3. I’d be willing to bet it was Joy. That particular album only has a few pictures of her and a few Barbie pictures. I would think that with a doll looking like Joy, it must’ve been her they took. In a dress that I made. And all under 20 minutes, too.

Anyway, I expect that when Tom gets home within the next few hours he’ll have more story clips from Mary about her hiding out in New York from Justin, proof that God does make mistakes.

Meanwhile, I’ve been practicing singing to karaoke a lot, but not working much on my story. I have done some fine-tuning, though.

Anyway, I went to a lyrics site and printed out the lyrics to the songs I may record. If we can get some decent enough songs sung by me, or at least what I consider to be decent enough, we’ll merge the files (me and the karaoke) and burn them onto CDs.

Wish I knew why I was so damn fartsy all the time! I smell like a baby, or like a druggie named Bentley from Tent City. It seems no matter what I eat, my tummy’s a constant gas chamber.

Tom said he probably dropped the can that’s in back when he was bringing stuff out. Let’s hope so. That’s awfully close to the house, though as I said before, a part of me wishes I would catch a pig or a freeloader on the prowl.

We’re still having a very non-existent monsoon season. Of course, we had to have a fierce monsoon season when we had our leaky roof in Phoenix. That’s just our shit luck. If the roof suddenly blew off of this house, it’d rain like hell.

Anyway, as fun as the storms can be to watch, it really is a good thing we’re having all this dry weather. Then there’s no risk of leaks, like through the front door which Tom’s going to get new weather stripping. Rain also brings in the spiders and thunder wakes me up and can mess up my schedule. We’re getting close to the classes. I can’t afford to have any potential threats to my schedule at that point. I’ve got the freeloaders to deal with as it is.

Tom said he heard a report saying that if it doesn’t rain before August is out, it’ll be the first time in 27 years it didn’t rain in August.

I just wish those cheeks would come here when I was either at class or home alone so I could have the honor and the pleasure of ignoring him! But that will never happen. I mean, I’m home 99.9% of the time, so the odds of him stopping by while I was out are very slim. He’d have to be a gorgeous woman for that to happen.

I was telling Tom that with the omission of the freeloaders and the hurt caused by Teddy Bear, the turn of the century’s been the happiest years for me yet and life’s been getting better with time. He said he gets happier too, so this laid to rest any remaining questions I may’ve had about us being platonic. At first I was like, is he normal? Am I normal? Are we normal? But since he’s happy and I’m happy, does it really matter whether or not we’re normal? No, most people wouldn’t be happy with a platonic marriage, and no, most people wouldn’t be happy knowing they’ll probably be celibate for the rest of their lives, but we’re not most people. We’re Tom and Jodi and if Tom and Jodi are happy, then Tom and Jodi can stay the way they are.

It seems up until my early 20s I was obsessed with being “normal.” Then I became eager to rebel against the so-called norm, wanting to stick out like the sorest thumb in the city. Now, I just want to be me. It seems we’re either born to be leaders or followers, but I don’t want to be either one of those. I just want to be me.