Got my first real period in two months. My stomach deflated like a popped tire after being so damn bloated. They say you have too much belly fat if your waist is over 35” and that it should be several inches smaller. Well, it’s currently right at 35”, but there’s no way in hell I could ever get it back in the 20s no matter how much I dieted and exercised. Been having more and more problems with heartburn lately, so if anything will keep the weight from going up, it’ll be that since I can’t quite eat as much. Thinking of giving up soda to see if that helps, even though I drink calorie and caffeine-free soda.

I was thinking about how Rachel said you could still have Hashimoto’s symptoms even with perfect numbers. Well, I still do in some ways. Not being able to lose weight is one of them, though I also know that part of that is being older and that we’re supposed to have a little extra cushion with age.

Chatted with Mr. Twenties while Tom added water to the car. They’re taking off for two weeks on the 11th for his 50th high school reunion in Iowa. They’re going to make a serious road trip of it and stop at places like Yellowstone. He really appreciated me telling him he didn’t look that old, LOL, and he doesn’t. He’s such a nice guy, too.

He said the workers are “almost” done, whatever that means, and that the place will be tented the week after they leave. So I take it the workers will be there all of next week?

Went to Walmart yesterday morning and as he was scanning items at the self-serve register, I glanced over at the self-serve register across from us… a petite, slender woman with dark gray curls swept to the side and almost to the shoulders. No makeup. Almost athletic in appearance… Doc O? Tom didn’t think so, though she does live pretty close to us.

Today we’ll be going to Sam’s. We’ve got several things we want to get done around the house as well. These damn popcorn ceilings haven’t been de-webbed since Andy’s visit in late 2014, so since he’s got the height, he’ll go around doing that while I shine the flashlight to illuminate the dust better.

We’re going to put in the solar color-changing ground stake lights we have, move the kitchen table back into the dining area, and drag my old desk out of his closet and into my bedroom so I can have a more comfortable daytime office.

I shoved the file box under the laundry room desk since he has a better plan for hanging the bikes in the area across from it where there used to be a freezer.

We also need to change the rats’ cages, and I want to dye my hair.

I’m so glad my life is better than what it was in my dreams last night! I slept horribly and am tired today. We were living someplace where we were keeping these bees of all things. The beehives were by the living room window. They slept inside the hives at night and in the daytime, they came out, but stuck close to their hives, never flying around the place or anything.

I was talking to Tom, wearing just my bra and panties, when I raised my voice a bit. I don’t know if I was laughing or angry, but it startled the bees into flying onto me. I wanted to scream in a panic but was frozen in fear. Luckily I woke up at that point!

Then I witnessed two women fighting. As they were beating the shit out of each other in the street, I grew nervous as they got closer to our place and was about to jump in and beat the shit out of both of them if they fucked up our flowerbeds, but then they split up and ran.

I also had weird dreams. I cut the back of the couch to find rats nesting inside it and a small box that had a fan in it I could hear and feel, but not see. Then someone told me they thought something was wrong with the pipe feeding water to Tammy’s bathroom sink while I was still trying to figure out the box “fan” and pull all the rats out of the couch.

Then I was talking to my parents about some beach for older folks and said, “But it’s not like your beach where you have just a few women and men that act civilized. This beach has about 50 women that do nothing but shout over each other all day long.”

Then I was on a beach that was fairly deserted and walking along the shore. Someone warned me that the undertow was especially strong at the moment, and it did seem that I had to struggle to keep from getting sucked offshore and into the big waves.

Next, I ran into Doc A. First, in real life she sent me the portion of the hormone results when I asked her for tips on lightheadedness. Yeah, but what do they mean? I guess this is her way of saying, “You’re perimenopausing. Deal with it!” LOL

In the dream, I picked up my Burkey boy and she saw me give him a big hug and kiss. She was both amused and disgusted. A split second later she was riding away in a 50’s pickup that was driven by some guy. It was one of those old vehicles that had one long seat in front. She sat close to the guy, turned to look out the strip of window behind her, and waved to me.

Lastly, I had a jail dream that was about the most fun any jail dream could possibly get. It’s like it wasn’t a jail, but more like a resort, country club or fancy hotel. The only thing you couldn’t do was leave the place or choose your own food. There were 4-5 people per room, which had regular windows and real twin beds. Not plastic-covered foam mattresses thrown on either concrete or steel shelves/benches. The beds were even adjustable.

All the “inmates” were friendly and civilized. They didn’t act like a bunch of teenagers or seem as smart as second graders.

You could have your cell phones and any prescription meds you were on sent to you there. I was to be there for 3 months, so I must’ve done something a lot more serious than writing some no-no, knowing our twisted laws. I didn’t seem to know Tom, but my parents were still alive. Only problem was that I couldn’t call them to ask for my thyroid meds and a loan for the shops they had because they had just changed their number and I couldn’t remember it.

Pissed that I hadn’t programmed their number into my phone, I set about finding some stationary to write to them. In one of the shops, I was given a sheet of paper by a young woman. Then she gave me a handful of “decorations” to fancy up the envelope with. I chose a shiny purple flower. Then I was given an assortment of envelopes to choose from and made my choice.

“That’ll be 30 cents,” she said.

“Oh no!” I said, “I don’t have any money yet. I just got here.”