If we decide to stay in a motel just to get away for a day and have a real bathroom and real electricity, it’ll be after Labor Day when people go home and back to school. This place is going to be the opposite of Arizona; the population will decrease in the winter. I’m still sure, though, that God will see to it that someone noisy goes next to us who can’t sit still for a minute and that has to go in and out a million times. The place we have in mind is in strips. Meaning, there won’t be anyone above or below us. Just slamming doors next to us.

My weight is still down to 126 pounds. Well, am I going to lose more or not? I doubt it. I still like to eat and I’m still older with a slower metabolism.

I do so hope Tom gets my incense from the mail people. It’s like – damn them! They got the first package right, so does this mean they’re going to botch every other package like Bob and Jeff botch every other incense order? Well, it’s unlikely there’ll be other packages at this point. I’m too tired of having to do other people’s work for them. I’ll buy stuff in person even if it means losing out on a lot of things I’ve been wanting. When I asked myself, if I ordered dolls from PG, would they send them and would the mail people let me know if they did? This was when I realized that that was no way to shop. It shouldn’t be hit or miss when a person buys something via mail, but for me it is.

Maybe I’ll wait till we get an address assigned to us. Tom says UPS and FedEx should have no trouble finding it because they use GPS nowadays.

No more bothering to check the weather online either, cuz they’re always wrong. Almost always, anyway. They said it was supposed to be back in the 80s today, yet it’s in the 60s.

I wish I could fall asleep till he got back and not have it screw up my schedule cuz I’m so bored. I know I could read, write letters, work on my story or sing, but I don’t feel like doing any of these things. Better to be bored, though, than to have no time to relax. The damp, cloudy weather kind of puts me in a lazy mood, too.

I could go out walking, but there’s not much to walk to, other than up and down the road. It’s too easy to get lost in these woods cuz it all looks the same.

Saw a rabbit earlier. There are definitely not as many rabbits or birds here as opposed to chipmunks, rats and mice, but that’s ok. I don’t miss the giant spiders, the scorpions and the dangers of living with rattlesnakes.

Later…

Those mother-fuckers at the mail place! There’s no escaping other people’s bullshit and being put out by them! Tom spoke with the woman there (it’s a father/daughter team) and she insists that she’s the one who signs for all the packages at the PO and that she swears there were no priority mail packages on the 20th. So then I called and spoke to Bob this time around, then had Tom talk to him. He gave Tom the package’s numbers and he’s going to try one more time tomorrow after work to see if it magically appears (though we know that one’s unlikely), then go to the PO. If they can prove that she signed for something we didn’t get, that’s her ass. Tom thinks the old geek of a cock gave it to someone else. Yeah, either that or the bitch stole it, though why they did whatever they did with it yet got the first one right is beyond me. Tom will file a complaint with the postal inspectors if he can prove she did in fact sign for it. There’s still always a chance that it’s sitting at the PO and they didn’t really deliver it, though it’s a slim chance. The mail people got it. I doubt anyone at the PO stole it. Too many cameras on them. The good of it is that we’re not out the money if we can’t find it. Bob will make up a new order free of charge if that’s the case, which is so nice of him. Maybe they weren’t trying to lose me after all.

I wish to hell we had a mailing address so I could request that everything be shipped here! We can’t have a PO Box because they require a physical address, so that means either dealing with these people till the box expires in November or going to another private mailing company. I think either way we go, I’m cursed with getting packages. Something up there has always tried to keep me from the things I’ve wanted. I’d love to be able to find a place in person to get all these things, but that’s just not going to happen. It’d be too long a drive to find a place that does custom dolls, and I’d have to go all the way to San Francisco to get a mannequin. I wouldn’t mind going there, though, and I know Tom wouldn’t either. San Francisco is closer to us than L.A. was to Maricopa. Besides, I always did say I’d like to see the mannequins in person.

We found a few doll stores in the Medford area. I hate to have to drive 2-3 hours to get the damn things, but if I have to, I will. Meanwhile, I have to give up the Ashton-Drake and PG dolls.

Later…

We did some online research. First, I sent Bob and Jeff links to my photo albums so they could see why we can’t get mail here and to be “friendly.” It was a way of letting them know I don’t blame them at all.

Meanwhile, if we’re going to have to be the ones to get the packages to us anyway, we may as well drive all the way out to Medford, the closest big city to us. KF is simply too small to have any JBS-like doll stores, and I certainly have no problem adding a visit to San Francisco to my list of experiences and seeing the mannequins in person before buying one.

We also revised our building plans yet again. Instead of a cabin kit or cabin plans, we may get Home Depot’s biggest, nicest shed for two grand and live in that until the house is built, which we now think will be huge (2000 square feet and almost as big as the house in Maricopa) if we’re going to have to wait a while anyway. The shed has a huge shelf that we could turn into a bed. Then there still may be room enough for a little kitchen, office and bathroom, in which case we’ll turn this heap of shit into a storage room.

I just had another grim thought. Just how honest are they with people’s outgoing mail? Could it be that Bob never got Angel Eyes cuz they kept it for themselves, perhaps curious as to what I could possibly be sending a prison inmate? Well, from now on we’re not going to give our mail to them. We’ll drop it in mailboxes and directly into the PO’s hands. Just maybe Mary has written, and maybe I should’ve gotten more samples by now.

We may go back to our original plan of having at least a partial cellar, only he’ll still use the shed for his office. The cellar can be where the washer/dryer is, plus storage, maybe an eBay room if we ever get back into that.

I wish I could snap my fingers and have it be a few years from now! I really do. Why oh why must people, time, circumstances and money always hinder us? Why must our things break so often and why can’t we do something as simple and as reasonable as receive our mail?

Later…

And the breakage curse lives on! Why, why, why, why, why????? The laptop won’t boot so I can listen to music and the portable MP3 player’s broken again, too. There’s too much else to do! Tom doesn’t have tons of time to stop and play fix-it! What, was the only reason we were put here on earth to be little repairmen and to do other people’s work for them? Well, I’m not only sick of having my plans fouled up due to other people, but I’m also seriously considering having nothing, and I mean nothing. Nothing mechanical that could break, no more packages, etc. Just books to read and paper to write on. On top of that, I ought to sell what I do have that isn’t a necessity.

Later…

I went to leave Tom a message so he wouldn’t think someone stole the shit MP3 player from the truck and accidentally woke him up. He said he could fix the MP3 player in 5 minutes. I told him to forget it. Instead, he fixed the laptop by pulling a card out of it and then it booted up ok.

That’s all well and good, but I’m still contemplating having just food to eat, clothes to wear, books to read and paper to write on. I’d love to be able to talk myself out of using things that can break and of getting more stuff. But could I give up all this without feeling like I was missing out? It seems unlikely, but maybe I could. After all, I didn’t even feel like I was “missing out” back when I wanted a kid. Cursed, controlled, depressed and angry, but not missing out.