Miraculously, I haven’t fallen off schedule yet, even though I slept late yesterday. I guess if something’s keeping me on schedule, then I must need to be. Yeah, no doubt so I can play motel/apartment indefinitely. I had asked Mr. Arab if we could rent on a monthly basis if we needed to, and he said he couldn’t do that. Up to a week is as far as he’s allowed to go, and he has to move us around each week, too. Damn, it’s just like being back in jail again! Only instead of changing cells, we’re changing rooms, and instead of trying to dodge roommates, we’re trying to dodge neighbors.

The kid’s nice, but this dude’s weird. He has this fixed expression that he’s probably not even aware of where his brows are fixed in a curious frown as if he’s never seen another human being before or he thinks they’re all weird as hell.

I’m sad not just because of the big dreams that have gone down the toilet, like having a mortgage-free home, but the little things as well that I’ll miss out on, like the type of cabinets I was supposed to pick out, the handles for them, the color and type of tubs and toilets, the carpet, the doors, etc. Tom’s dream to build a house became my dream as well. Oh, I’m just going to cry all over again, so I’ll write later.

Later…

The rat’s now in with us full-time, I’m glad to say. I have his cage in the bathroom. Because Tom’s sleeping on the floor, I have him shut up in the bathroom. Before I go to bed, I’ll shut him in his cage, and then Tom can open his door before he leaves, though I expect he’ll sleep most of the day. This rat has become more dog/cat-like than any other rat. As long as there’s nothing he could damage or that could harm him, he can be left to run loose pretty much all the time. It’s so funny how he comes charging at me when he hears paper or plastic rustling, thinking it’s food, and how he stands up on his hind legs by the side of the bed to be picked up, and how he takes food out of his cage and under the bed to eat it there. I don’t get the impression that the kid who works here whom we first met vacuums under beds regularly, but when he does, I think he’ll be in for quite a strange surprise.

I saw him today as he was cleaning rooms in the strip in front of us. He asked if the music he was playing was too loud, but personally, I never heard it till I approached him for clean towels.

We got someone a few doors down that I could do without because they spend so much time outside. It’s a couple with a young boy and the boy sits outside by the open door (they’re going to have a lot of bugs in their room tonight) while the parents keep going in and out of their truck. It’s mild compared to door slamming, bass thumping, and basketball games, but I’d still like to see them check out tomorrow. I doubt they will, though.

We got a couple of scratch tickets today, but neither of them won. I’m sorry I’m not psychic enough to rig them, but it gives me a bit of relief about the bad Thursday vibe I’ve been having. It gives me hope of being wrong since I’ve been wrong a lot lately. I don’t know, though. Bad things have a way of happening to us so much of the time anyway that it really doesn’t matter.

I felt so run down and yucky that I jogged in place earlier. I just can’t give up exercising. It makes me feel too good. I like being fit and strong and in good shape. It may not cause me to lose weight with all I eat, but I like the way it makes me feel. Besides, if I don’t at least do ab crunches, my back goes on the fritz.

When Tom got home, we treated ourselves to a much-needed, much-deserved dinner at nearby Mollie’s restaurant. He got a hot dog and fries and I got a seafood platter. It was nice to have something wholesome and filling, rather than the same old, non-filling chips and junk like that I’ve been having.

I know I should work on my story, but I don’t think I could concentrate just yet. I’ve been going back and forth between crying spells and periods of trancelike calm.

I asked myself, well, if we can’t build a house and if I can’t buy any more dolls or things like that because we either don’t have the money or I fear having to pack them away for God knows how long or lose them altogether, then what’s left? What’s left in life to look forward to? I guess the answer to that is singing, listening to music, reading, writing and similar things. Besides, I can still get things like incense and perfume when there’s money for it because those are things you use up. You don’t keep them around as decorations.