I’ve continued to have a sore throat off and on since Friday when I first got sick. I don’t know if this is from Tom or compliments of the welfare bums, meaning something I caught when I went to see Scot.

Speaking of those welfare bums, I’m so sick of being stressed out on account of them! Always with them, always with me. It never fucking ends! I’m back to stressing out all over again about the prospect of being woken up ever since I last saw Scot and he mentioned stopping by. Not knowing if he’s going to get carried away with that or not doesn’t help either, though I’d still rather he come here than me go there since I can ignore him here. The question is how long will he stand out there knocking? He’s never struck me as a very smart guy, so the thought of the possibility of us being picked up isn’t going to cross his mind for a second. He’s going to know damn well we’re in here, but hey, it’s our house so we’ll decide when and who visits. I’m not going to sit and worry about how he’s going to take being ignored. He’ll just have to live with it and learn how to handle it if he does get ignored and not make trouble for me if he doesn’t want us making trouble for him.

This is what I mean when I say that every time I think the welfare bums are done with me in some particular way, I come to find that they’re not. Instead, God wants me woken up at least one more time for old times’ sake, and I know those fences aren’t going to be up by mid-May. Almost all our plans either fall through or are delayed. Days turn into weeks which turn into months, sometimes even years. The fences won’t be up before June. Of that I’m sure. That’s okay, though, because another thing I’m sure of is that those welfare bums can’t own me and my life forever. Someday I’ll break free of them. Someday. There’ll really truly come a day when nothing that happens to me could possibly be because of them. Right now, though, and ever since God damned us with these people in ’96, almost everything is “because of them,” as my poem says. How I wish I could kidnap and torture the welfare bums and everyone else involved in ruining my life since we moved for every year they tortured me! But I could never do any such thing and God will continue to protect them all, blessing them with good health, happiness, love, money, success and everything they don’t deserve.

This sore throat is unbelievable. It’s so bad and I wonder when it’ll end. I usually only get a sore throat for a day, if even that, when I get colds. The rest of the cold’s been easy. No congestion, coughing or sneezing, just head pressure and fatigue. I’m still a bit weak to work out, too.

I’m now 90% sure I won’t be getting a kiln. Yes, I’d like to make dolls and maybe sell them too, but if I were meant to generate money, I’d be doing it by now. I was meant to cater to others for free, sometimes at my own expense. Also, I still fear the breakage curse and then there’s his lack of time to deal with, too. He’s not going to be leaving that bank before the year’s out and whenever he does, I’m sure the new job will be just as demanding. If I’m right about him being cursed with jobs and meant to have little free time, as is obviously the case, then while the new job might be closer, it’ll still demand a lot of his time. Maybe when he’s retired and the bulk of the home improvement jobs are done wherever we are at that time, we can get the kiln. For now, I don’t want one because I can save up for dolls a lot easier these days. My only concern will be what to do with my life when not working for Mary, but hey, it’s better than having no life at all or being miserable.

My current plan is to get that Indian doll I want. I’m only $40 away now. Then I’ll get a few mugs, the ballerina ornaments and Dalene. This shouldn’t take till November to get, so I’ll probably get something after Dalene, but come November is when I’m going to start saving for the mannequin which I should have by January. After that is when I’ll start saving for the dolls which are around $250.

Damn, my throat hurts! I hope to hell something up there isn’t trying to get me sick enough to have to make an appointment for this shit to make up for the lack of cheek trips. Just why are appointments so important to whatever’s up there anyway? If I do have to go to a doctor, though, I’ll be getting just what I asked for, in a sense. I did, after all, beg God to curse me with illness/injury versus other people for a change if he has to see me suffer.