Tom came straight home from work to work on the shed. He had stopped by the mail place before work and found I had a letter from Bob. It’s rather disturbing to read that he’s still waiting for my story when he should’ve gotten it by now. I figured he should’ve gotten it by the 11th, yet his letter was postmarked on the 14th. I hope he got it right after he mailed the letter off to me.

Anyway, it was a quickie, saying that because they want him on oxygen all the time, they want to move him to a maximum security prison in Shirley where he’d be locked down all the time, and he doesn’t want that.

I told Tom that if he’s sure he doesn’t want to use the RV for storage when we’re done with it, rather than bring it to a junkyard, I think we ought to use it as another deterrent so we’ll be flanked by abandoned trailers, and put it on the other side of us. I don’t think he’ll go for it, though.

He wants to save up money for a well when we get in the house, which I think is both a good and a bad idea. It’s bad because all they do is break, but it’s good to not have to haul water, and it’d up the value of the place. At least this time around we’d have the money to keep fixing it, though I’d rather spend the money on other things.

Just like today, tomorrow we’ll hit a high of 87º, but next Monday’s supposed to only hit 62º!