Lost 4.6 pounds in less than two weeks on this Special K diet. Not bad. Gonna hit the treadmill in a few.

They’ve been turning us off more and more in the mornings and evenings and it’s so damn frustrating. This “service” isn’t even worth the $25 a month we pay for it, but we both agree we don’t want to pay $200 - $300 a month for our only other option while we’re still here trying to save for a house. So as much as I’m tempted to go online on and off throughout the day I’m going to try to make a point of checking in just once or twice a day to avoid the frustration my dependency on the net has brought me. I’m gonna just pick up messages, check in at my regular sites, post my entries, and submit my work for my job, then that will be it for the day. It’ll be hard, but I can do it. It will be good for me because I spend too much time online as it is when I should be doing other things. So as long as the net doesn’t cut out when I want to make my daily rounds, I can’t be so frustrated if I avoid the source of frustration altogether.

I’m going to stop posting old journals for now, but I hope to finish my designer book titles for the doc files I’ve been making on a site called Muzy. Yeah, I’m loving the photo quotes that writes text in big fat letters that you can fill in with the photo of your choice. Nothing like colorful, flowery titles, LOL.

I feel bad for Andy cuz his neighbor’s dog has been barking. Even though he’s got a helluva deal where he’s at I could never stand to live attached to others. Even when we didn’t have anyone above or below us they still managed to drive us crazy in just about every way imaginable. TVs, music, cabinets, doors, footsteps, loud chatter, kids screaming… But what happened to dogs being pets in the East? Are they not household pets anymore or something? This is one of the things (besides how liberal it is there) that I miss about the East.

Where I had to use sound machines for the dogs here that are anything but pets, now I have to use them for mice. Yeah, they’re still chewing up a storm somewhere under the floorboards between the bathroom and living room, and they get annoying as hell. I worry they’re going to damage something vital within the electrical or plumbing and while we won’t have to pay for it since we’re still renters, I worry we’ll need Jesse down for that or some other emergency before we leave and he’ll discover the bathroom leaks we’ve been dealing with ourselves so as not to have to deal with him. We put a cookie sheet under the leaky sink pipe and Tom removed the handles of the leaky shower faucet (fortunately it was the cold one) and put a wrench on it to make it easier to turn on and off.

Left a message for the attorney but never heard back from him. That’s not good. Makes me think I really won’t get shit after all. That’s so God, too. It’s so God to add one more insult to injury by making sure my abusers don’t leave me shit. And let me guess…they’re living it up and having a grand old time in the afterlife too, right God? Well, we can’t know for sure what, if anything, happens in the afterlife, but I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they were going first class.

People say God works in mysterious ways. Try twisted, sick and unfair ways. Really, there’s nothing “mysterious” about why some people live in beautiful homes that do next to nothing while my husband works his ass off just to come home to this.

In reading back in my mid-90s journal (I am at least proofreading them for when I finally do publish them) I read about Minnie, someone who also knew the late Bob Pratt, a friend who died in prison around 2005 or so. We exchanged a few calls and letters back then. I looked her up on Facebook and sent her a message. She replied and requested to be added.

Someone in San Francisco spent a half-hour on my blog tonight. Michelle?