Tom’s asleep now on the recliner. He was drooling on the room’s one bed earlier. I’m sick of all these one-bedded rooms! But with fewer families and more couples and singles, one bed is the norm now. It’s getting harder and harder to find a room with two beds each year.

Ever since we left Oregon I’ve been lucky to climb a couple of hundred points on Netwinner, let alone a couple thousand. Again I have to wonder, was it something about that house? Something about playing from motels? Or is it the way my life is now that’s influencing it? Well, I certainly don’t miss Oregon or the house, but I sure miss having a life! I miss having a routine. I miss sweeping, my stereo, my dolls, my own bed, sleeping alone, etc. I hate this one-room deal and not having much privacy or space. Now that he’s working, though, it shouldn’t be as big a deal.

This place has been unbelievably quiet. Quieter than the Oregon house was. I can’t believe that we can get so much peace in such a big building! It’s almost like motels in the 70s again. There are only 3 floors, but each side has 22 rooms per floor. I think there’s someone under us, but that’s it. It’s definitely way too quiet for anyone to be on either side of us. People need to stomp and slam doors these days, so I’m sure I’d know it if someone were there. In the other motels, I needed both the sound machine and earplugs to get any peace, but here I could sleep with just the sound machine if I were going to sleep when he was leaving for work.

The good news is that the work is simple. He just inputs incoming parts into the computer and stuff like that. He says he thinks they’ll keep him and that he sees plenty of opportunity for overtime and advancement, and while his area only does days, there are other areas with other shifts. They’re not allowed to do overtime the first week, but hopefully he’ll get to do it after that.

It sure was stressful, not knowing if the truck would get him there, or if they’d screwed up and weren’t expecting him, or if they’d let him go. To have to start hunting for another job at this time would be devastating because we’d be on the streets for damn sure before he got re-hired elsewhere, though as I told God, He can lead us to the streets, but He cannot make me live on them! It’s still a scary thought, though, considering that out of the dozens of applications he’s submitted, only one responded.

The question is, how many months of living in motels do we have ahead of us if we don’t get tossed on the streets and forced to die? At least I would be forced to die. I’d want to die in that case! I’d still like to think nothing up there could hate us that much. As it is we’re back to being His little underdogs with enough problems. We can’t have anything reliable to drive, I can’t work too, and we don’t have a place to live. Isn’t that bad enough?!