I’m so bummed out right now. I can’t believe we came this far just to quite possibly end up dead since we don’t want to lose everything and live in shelters or on the streets. I still don’t have doom vibes, I haven’t had nightmares, but no one called at all today. Tom thinks he’ll hear something by noon tomorrow. Let’s hope he’s right!

Then again, do I really want to be saved this time? Would it matter if we had family who cared enough to save us? My mother, for some reason, decided she didn’t want anything to do with us after she helped us last year, so there’s no way I can see her helping us now. Besides, we can’t go running to others for help every year or two. We’ve got to either sink or swim on our own, and if he doesn’t get a job in time to save us, we’ll just have to sink.

His family quit caring about us years ago and made it clear that they would never again be there for us to help us if we ever needed it, and our friends, who don’t live in the area, aren’t able to help us even though I’m sure they would if they could.

So we are right where we were the day they laid him off, waiting to see what happens. Again, I’m not sure that I totally want saving this time. I’m just so tired of trying to get ahead just to get kicked back like this, especially if that good-paying job doesn’t hire him real soon. Quiet or not, I don’t want to live in old bummy places all my life. I don’t want to save and save and save just to end up struggling anyway. I don’t want to grow old and deal with the problems old age brings. I have enough problems as it is with my ear and teeth. I don’t want to have to worry about who’s going to take care of us when we get too old to fend for ourselves.

So I guess I’m okay with whatever happens. There are pros and cons to both living and dying, and I got to do the things I wanted to live to do anyway when we were in the jam we were in last year. I got to listen to my stereo again, have my stuff and wear the clothes that had been packed for so long, hang my wind chimes, etc. So as sad and as scary as it still may be, I’m ready to move onto the next plane, whatever that may be, if that’s what it comes down to.

Death has always scared me. Any form of death at any age has always been a terrifying thought because we can never really know for sure what happens afterward until we’re actually dead. Maybe God really does hate gays and I’ll go to hell for the half a dozen women I’ve been with, even if all but two were one-night stands. Maybe I’ll just float about, able to drop in on anyone or anyplace I want. Maybe I’ll be reincarnated. Maybe I’ll just sink into total nothingness. The point is the same, I’m going to find out someday anyway, so does it really matter when it happens if it can keep us from being homeless? There are just as many bad things in life to escape in our 40s and 50s as there would be in our 70s and 80s.

We would prefer for him to get a better job, for me to win more like I used to before the economy went to hell, for me to be able to go to a dentist, and for us to one day buy a home of our own. But life isn’t usually what we plan it to be. Most folks don’t want to believe this, but it’s true.

We got $100 worth of propane, so at least we won’t have to die cold if it does come down to the streets or death, although the afternoons have been nice. I’ve got the windows open now, the fan running, and I’m not wearing much either. Propane’s down a bit, too. Last time it was $2.34 a gallon and now it’s $1.99.

The dogs haven’t been as barky as I thought they’d be, not used to Jesse being gone all day, and I got a small win in the mail. Just air freshener and Ziploc bags for steaming veggies in the microwave. I guess it’s better than nothing.

Meanwhile, It’s back to waiting on death row. Are we going to make it or not? Guess time will tell and whatever’s meant to be will be as I’ve said before.