Wow, Maliheh must be getting impatient, LOL, because she checks out my journal 3 or 4 times a day, she pretty much knows what schedule I’m on (I’m off to a late start today), and has been checking my journal every hour for updates. Man, I still wish to hell I knew what she was thinking! Is she over the past? Wanting to screw me? Does she like the story? Will she ever contact me or accept the friend invite?

Brandy went off (I think it was Brandy) before sunup, and Whiskey went off at 7am. Was Jesse even home last night? I know he went out at 6pm last night, but did he ever return? At age 54, I doubt he’s seeing anyone, but if he were, why not bring her here to what is a big beautiful house? Let me guess… God would rather he go to her so I can listen to the dogs, right? Bet He’d have her come here for damn sure if they would blast music for hours and hours that we could hear down here.

I got up to find the bedroom at 70º and the living room at 65º. That is totally freezing to me! And it’s not even September yet. The unseasonably cool weather we’ve had for the last couple of days is to end soon and we’re to be back at 100º - yes! But why oh why am I so damn sensitive to cold? I hate it when the place is under 77º except for when I’m sleeping or working out! I love having it between 77º and 82º in here. I hate to have to be bundled up in robes and to wear long sleeves that get caught on things and restrict my movements. It’s making me think of Florida more and more, though I know that if we make it, we’d never have the money to move there, and if we did, I wouldn’t have the guts to make the move after having each long-distance move I’ve made get more and more disastrous. Living on the edge of poverty really restricts your options, but instead of getting all pissed off about it, I’m trying to learn to accept that some things are just meant to be and there’s only so much we can do to change them. If we’re not meant to have money so as to be held back in life, nothing we do is going to change things. Not much anyway.

I was teasing Tom yesterday and we were laughing and joking about some things which helped take my mind off of things. “Love how they say it targets only the grays,” I said as I was reading the box of hair dye he bought for himself. “You’re gonna really be under target,” I added, and he laughed.

Then when I took a break from writing to give my mind a rest from so much thinking, I went into the living room and said, “Writing a book is such hard work. No matter how good you may be at it, the editing takes forever. I feel like I’ve written dozens of pages, but I’ve only written a few.”

I headed back into my little office to write some more when he comes out of the bathroom and says, “I wanted to pull a few brown hairs to later compare with the dyed ones, but I can’t find any to pull.”

I laughed my ass off and assured him there were a few in back I could pull for him. “But then I won’t have any left to compare with,” and we were cracking up again. It was so fucking funny!

We were also remembering the time the refrigerator door fell off in old Gert. It happened right as Tom was crashing and had the sheet over his head. I was startled and squealed out in panic as it fell off, but what was so hilarious (though it wasn’t the least bit hilarious at the time) was seeing how fast he struggled to get that sheet off his head. It must’ve taken him at least 5 seconds to get untangled from the sheet, and of course he was like, “Calm down, it’s no big deal.” But I wouldn’t hear it. I went right into my why-does-God-hate-us? mode.

He started to haul the refrigerator door outside and I yelled, “What are you doing going out in the dark? Are you out of your mind? Get back in here!” And after I reminded him we were in the middle of the forest – a northwestern pine forest - with no one around for miles but bears and other deadly goodies, he said he doubted any bears would get him. “Maybe just a mountain lion instead, right?” I said.

“But where do I put the thing?” he asked, and I told him to put it on top of the rat’s cage for all I cared, but we were NOT going outside.

Something was really out to get him one day. We went into the city (K-Falls) for pizza, went back out to the land, and he puked. Then he was working on adjusting the satellite dish that was on back of the RV when the wrench slipped from his hand and bonked him just under the eye. So he had to walk around with a black eye, looking like he got punched out for a week.

Oh, what fun and disastrous times we had in the Pacific Northwest until circumstances forced us to abandon old ugly Gert and the land. Oh well. It was too fucking cold anyway. It was in the 30s there last night.

Later…

They made me a translator on livemocha.com. That Spanish submission I had to review the other day wasn’t a mistake after all. Because my score in Spanish is so high, they made me Community English and Spanish teacher and now translator as well. The only thing is that I do enough for free, and all they give you are “mocha points.” Big deal! I care more about cash than showing off achievements.

I really wish people would quit sending me their speaking lessons with TVs blaring in the background. Use your fucking heads, people!

My first attempt to “psych” a bingo scratch ticket into winning was a bust. beats head But I was one number away from a $5 winner on 2 of the 4 games. You get a second chance to win online, too. Tom said that since I was never 100% on these things anyway, we’ll soon try one more time on another ticket.

sighs And I still say that I lost that ability upon moving here, though I don’t know why. At least I can still keep the colds away and have the dream premonitions even if some of them aren’t good.