My first group of puzzles sold to someone in CA, but the plates and incense didn’t sell. Tom thinks it’s because we said we’d ship priority mail which is more expensive. He wants to try shipping first class, but I still don’t think it’s going to work out because it’s what I want. If God never let me do what I wanted in life before, why would he start now? On the other hand, I have plenty of other things I do that I enjoy. They may not make me money, but they’re fun just the same.

Tonight’s the Charlie’s Angels movie!!! I’ll be crashing before it goes on, so I’ll see it when I get up.

Haiku went through Raleigh, NC, and recently left Greensboro, NC. Still too much distance between us to say for sure that she’ll make it here, but I’m more hopeful than I have been in a month.

The heat never came on last night.

Later…

About an hour ago I was sitting at my desk brushing my hair when my worst nightmare appeared, slowly creeping down Ralston and heading towards Bitter Root, then stopping by the shacks next door which are at the edge of their property. With my heart feeling like it would jump out of my chest, I ran and alerted Tom who was in the other room. A few minutes later, my nightmare moved on towards Bitter Root and out of view.

As I told Tom, a small pickup passed by with a sheriff’s car behind it. Tom assured me we had nothing to worry about, but after what happened to me and knowing that those freeloaders are still out there and know where we are, I can’t help but get paranoid. Tom reminded me that they can’t rehash old shit, but as I reminded him, they were obsessed with me. Enough to die for me if it came down to it. So while it may be true that they can’t legally reopen old cases, what’s to say they didn’t get robbed or something and are blaming me? After all, I’d be a convenient one to pin it on. If they don’t know who did it, why not blame the white Jew who hates everybody? It’d be my word against theirs, and if I can get framed once, why not twice?

Tom says they were probably just looking for a stolen vehicle and that that could be why they stopped by the shacks; they have that old dumpy car sitting there. He also says that sooner or later they are going to come out with papers about the house.

I just want to get out of here! No, I don’t have any bad vibes, but no psychic is perfect and I’d just feel a whole lot better being someplace far away that they don’t know about.

I try to tell myself, “Calm down. Don’t let the sight of a pig freak you out.” But it’s easier said than done. I’m going to be nervous until we make it out of here. I know, though, that if God wants to whip my ass with these sickos, he’s not going to let us make it out in time. Life is one crisis and struggle after another, and while this shit with the house may be quite a party as opposed to the freeloader shit, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe God feels I need more shit thrown at me, though I certainly hope not! I’ve had enough and I’d like at least a year off from the stressful, long-term problems he likes to curse me with.

I burned all but the paper saying my probation was terminated early, so that way if some sick pig out to play games with me tries to come and say I skipped, I’ll have that paper.