Beverly nearly drove me crazy again today. Not with the music, but with another all-day banging spree. Tom said that he walked up to the store, which was quite a long walk, and she was gone when he left. She was still gone when he returned too, but then a couple of hours before I got up, the banging began. It’s a miracle she didn’t wake me up, and if she had, there’s no way I’d let her get away with it. I’d be out knocking on her bedroom window in the middle of the night which wouldn’t disturb Tom.

A few days ago I began to wonder if perhaps now her grandkid has been born because she’s been out more often and Romeo’s been coming around a lot less. Also, there were toddler-size clothes hanging on her line today, making me think she may be doing laundry for her son and daughter-in-law to give them a break if they just had another kid. Supposedly they’ve got others, but her total number of grandkids changed between our first and second chat. First she had said she had 2 grandkids and one on the way, then it became 5 grandkids with one on the way.

The question is, was she moving furniture around on a cleaning spree? Or did she have grandkids over that was causing the banging? It isn’t uncommon for people to take kids for a night or two here and there to give their parents a break. Especially when another one comes out of the oven.

Another question is, how could she not know that we could hear all the racket she made today? I was surprised she didn’t know we could hear the bass, either. Is she that dumb or what? Or is she just a hypocrite who’s as inconsiderate as she is considerate about disturbing others? Well, I know one thing for sure and that’s that there’s no way I’m going to worry about my singing. Not with them and their doors next door, and not with her over there banging. Why oh why do people in rentals feel so compelled to either blast music or bang? Either way, I’m not going to worry about being quiet myself. I’m not going to blast music myself or toss shit around on and off for hours on end like she did today and 5 Sundays ago, but I’m not going to be as sure to step lightly when walking around here unless Tom’s asleep.

I can’t believe it went on for 7 hours. 7 hours! How long can it possibly take to clean a 1-bedroom place? All that from a 51-year-old woman, though it wasn’t continually. Sometimes you wouldn’t hear anything for half an hour, then boom! The whole structure would shake. I could even feel some tremors in the bedroom with headphones on! And she doesn’t know we can hear/feel it? I wonder if perhaps she does, but she just doesn’t care. Maybe she figures, well, I’ve cut the music, so as a compromise, I’m not going to worry about throwing furniture around when I want to clean (assuming that’s what it was really all about).

A glance at the calendar showed her last banging spree to be 5 Sundays ago, so I wonder if she’s going to do a big all-day cleaning job once a month. As annoying as it is, I could live with it, even though I don’t want to, knowing we’re out of here in May. We better be anyway, and I hope Christmas is as peaceful as Thanksgiving was!

Sometimes when she goes out, I look longingly at the dividing wall, wishing I could magically part it just wide enough to squeeze through. I’d love to check out what she’s got and help myself to anything I may want. Then I’d squeeze back to our side, leaving no trace of ever having been over there and Beverly to suspect management. With no forced entry, and with the partition in the wall magically disappearing, she could only think they let themselves in while she was gone.

Tom’s research showed that Redding may be our best bet when it comes time to move to California. It’s in very northern California and is a small town, but not so small that he couldn’t get a job there. Then, when he retires, Eureka, which is right on the coast and a little farther south, may be our best bet. I don’t know if we’re staying in town, moving to the coast of Oregon or to California in May, but I’ll settle for just getting out of here and into a house with no one so close or attached to it!

As for his mother dying, well, we’re going to need his inheritance whether she dies now, in 10 years, or 20, so I guess she may as well live on to accumulate more money, even though we could really use a good grand or so now!

Tom asked me if I placed a spell on his nutty coworker, Lisa, but I haven’t had a reason to. At least not yet, but anyway, she lost her father a few days ago. He suddenly up and died of a stroke. Well, he was in a coma first, but then they agreed to shut off his life support cuz he’d only be a vegetable if he woke up. He was a year younger than Tom and said to be healthy, which is rather scary.

Also, the guy who stocks their soda machine’s son was hit by a car and is in a coma. He was showing off for his girlfriend by back-wheeling on his bike when he slipped off the curb with no time to stop himself from being hit. I guess it was a busy road.

I got one hell of a surprise in the mail from Paula yesterday. Not only did she send a birthday card, but she also sent a $10 bill, too! I couldn’t believe it! I still can’t. So I’m burning her 5 CDs in wave format with over 70 songs, plus I’ll send her the incense when I get it next month if they can keep from fucking up my order and the mailman can deliver it with no problems.

I called to thank Paula for the card and money, and she said the PR she was seeing must be gay for sure since they haven’t done anything. Also, his mother’s crazy, and they’ve taken out a restraining order on her for what she says is no reason at all. She didn’t beat up on anyone, she said, and has to go to court on Monday, but doesn’t plan on showing up.

I told her a little about the dolls, then Tom and I were laughing at the idea of her getting a male doll. Then she could have sex anytime she wanted it (this chick’s got a typical male’s appetite) and she could beat up on it without having to go to court! I’ll be sure to tell her so too, in my next letter to her.

It’s sad to think of how when Paula and I became buddies 15 years ago our lives were the same. She was poor, I was poor. She lived in the slums, I lived in the slums. She was alone, I was alone. The only difference was that she had a son and I didn’t. Now, all these years later, she’s still in the same predicament while I’ve experienced so many changes, good and bad.

They’re going to publish the third rat picture I submitted and enter me as a semi-finalist to win one of their 114 prizes - a bronze medal, a silver medal, $1,000 or $10,000. I had a vibe on one of the medals, but I doubt it. I mean, for a rat? On the other hand, I’d be quicker to medal on that than I would be to get my first submitted manuscript published. Someday, though, as my writing continues to improve, I think God would let even me publish a book. Why? Because I’m not as desperate to do so as I once was to become a singer and a mother, and there’s no real money in it.