Tom has a cold, I’m sorry to say. Apparently, I’m still immune to colds, but I’m no longer able to protect him and that worries me. All my powers are pretty much history, save for negative predictions and keeping myself from illness. As it is, I’m starting to wonder if we’re going to make it out of here this weekend. He’s trying, though. He got updated lists and spoke with the property management people some more. I would still prefer a house, but I can see he prefers a duplex. This is because they’re cheaper and would cost less to heat. He doesn’t want us to have to skimp and be uncomfortable when it comes to heat, but that’s all we do is skimp. Our whole life is skimping this, compromising that, and all kinds of sacrifices and settlements, so does it matter? House, duplex – they’ll all suck either way, so I don’t really care so long as we get the hell out of motels.

A lot of people think renting is bad because you lose the money, but look how easy it is for some of us to lose houses, so what difference does it make? I don’t want to own anything again as much as I’ll always wish I could.

This motel, as much as I want out, continues to be the best so far, save for the fact that it’s got no internet access or another room. They don’t bug us here, and the room next door is usually quieter than they were in other places. They get on my nerves occasionally with the door-slamming and attention-getting tactics like that, but I don’t hear voices and TVs like at other places.

I still think of suicide periodically, and that it may be best since we go through so much more shit than good. I’m more and more convinced that life will be one long-term problem after another as long as we live. At our age, I just don’t see how things could get better. I’ve at least agreed to give Mr. Optimist time to see that no, we can’t get a quiet place. Not even in the tiny town of Klamath Falls. A noise curse is a noise curse. It will get us wherever it can. It doesn’t care where we go. As long as it can stick next to us just one loud, rude, obnoxious asshole that just won’t shut up, it will. Meanwhile, when he can finally see and admit that old curses and patterns really do have a way of following us no matter where we go and that life will continue to be everything we don’t want it to be and nothing we do want it to be, he’s agreed to research poison online as a possible way of killing ourselves. There are too many risks with hanging and shit like that, so he’s going to investigate some form of poison. One would think there are some fast-acting poisons out there, though at this point, if I have to suffer 5 minutes of hell before I die, it may be worth it to get to nothingness in the end, rather than put up with 50 more years of hell on earth.

I don’t understand why God doesn’t take his mother. All she’s doing is taking up space and burdening others while we could really use her help, and the only way she could help us at this point is to get dead. I mean, damn that bitch! It just won’t fucking die! I’ve been putting spells on her like crazy yet I know it’s worthless. The selfish bitch has got God’s protection and many years left in her. On the other hand, does it really matter if she takes 10 more years to die? We’ll still need money then too, if we’re still alive.

We had a couple of cold days, but they say it’s to warm up to around 80˚ within the next few days. Not bad for mid-October.

Tom brought in my box of Barbies that’s been in the truck. That way I can personalize the place a bit and feel like we have something around that’s ours other than clothes. I’ve only got a few displayed, though, since there’s only so much room in here, and what with the rat running loose a lot.

We took a walk earlier. I just felt like I had to get out. I didn’t want Tom to accompany me. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his company, it’s just that he was sick and I wanted him to rest. Still, he insisted on tagging along, so I let him.

I never did get sick, like I said, but I was so rundown. All I did was sleep for the last few days, though I’m still on nights. I just can’t seem to get onto days to save my life, but oh well. I’ll sleep when I sleep. If things could go our way for once – just for once – I should only have one more move coming up for a while and that’s to the apartment.

I can’t stop thinking of that waitress. I hope I get to see her this Sunday, but I might not if I can’t push my schedule up or pull it back. I won’t be able to give her my number this Sunday if we’re not in someplace by then. If I’m right about her liking me, just handing her my number should be enough of an incentive for her to call me, but I’d rather have dolls and incense as a hook, and I won’t have that till we are in a place. Still, I wonder, will she really call? And if so, just what kind of friendship could we have?

I guess I’d have to say I doubt we’ll get together in any way shape or form. Look how many times in the past I thought I’d be getting together with various people, yet I never did. Because women were always so not meant to be, not that I’d want a relationship with this woman, God will send her a girlfriend right around the time I get my number to her. I just don’t see Him letting me be even just friends with a gay or bisexual woman.

On the other hand, do I really want to have a lover on the side who gets off on me and whom I get off on? Nah. As exciting as the prospect of variety may seem, I don’t really need that. When Tom doesn’t cum, it’s for a reason, and as “abnormal” and as “freakish” as that may be, we both don’t want a child, so it’s okay. Again, I know it could be for other reasons that he doesn’t cum, but I still have a hard time buying Helen’s it-just-doesn’t-quite-feel-good-enough literature. I think he’s very much in control of himself, and I think he’d not cum in any unprotected woman. This doesn’t mean he’d get squirt-happy if I suddenly had a hysterectomy, though, cuz that’d be admitting to both himself and to me that I was right. Besides, he’s gotten himself so accustomed to not cumming, and when you don’t get that horny that easily or that often, holding back isn’t so hard to do.

I still don’t see what this woman sees in me anyway. Can’t she see how chunked out I am?

With Tom’s work probation period being up in just two weeks from now, we’re both anxious and nervous. It’s nerve-wracking to know that just like others have, they could take our lives and trash them, but at the same time, we want to hurry up and get the probation over with.

I’d like to think God can have the heart to say to Himself that these people have been picked on enough. They’ve lost so much that I’m not going to take the job, too. They’ve been taken for enough and their lives are in shambles, so I’ll at least spare them the loss of the job.

But I can’t count on this. It’s because of all He has taken from us that worries me. If He could take the things He has and if He could prevent us from achieving such ordinary goals, He could take our lives in His hands and crush the life right out of them if He wants us dead, and dead is just how we’ll get if He does strip us of what little we have left.

If we do live, we’re still going to save as much as we can, even though we’ll be in apartments for years, because we’ll need the money for if he gets fired or laid off in the future, and that’s bound to happen. It happens to the best of us. We also still want to go to San Francisco to get that mannequin I’ll have to move around like crazy, and on a cruise as well. You can bet your ass we’re going first class when we do! As in hotels with a capital H where they’ll wait on us as if we were royalty.

I decided not to bother getting the fillings I need. I just don’t want to put extra money in my mouth or go back to playing appointments, so if I let them just decay, there’ll be no teeth to have to worry about. We play fix-it enough outside of my mouth that I don’t need to play it inside of it as well.

Oregon is one “regular” state. I don’t think I’ve gone a day without shitting, except for when I took those anti-shit pills.