Since I was asleep when Tom got home and went to sleep himself, he left an email saying everything went well at the doctor’s but that he’s up 5 pounds. In other words, he’s going to continue to ignore his teeth, which really need to be dealt with, phobia or not.

Mine is still up a few pounds and has basically become me and a part of me because of how long I let it hang on. The longer it’s left on, the more the body gets used to it. I realize I’ve got to really fight to get it down at least a little for the sake of my TSH and not just my mobility. If my TSH can go down with weight loss, then couldn’t this extra weight push it up? It only makes sense when you think about it and I am NOT going to 88s.

I got a text from my dentist saying to call and schedule something sooner on the calendar, or something to that effect. I texted back saying that I wasn’t scheduled until March, so was there some reason I needed to come in sooner?

I also received an email about the first one getting lunch on them that came in at lunchtime or something like that today. So they’re probably just spamming me. Shame on them, too.

We’re going to have to change priorities as far as the next expensive upgrade goes and soundproof my bedroom windows. There are now way too many motorcycles in this fucking park, way too close to the house. What we’re getting today would’ve been like Jesse roaring right by the trailer. They’re tearing in and out of here as early as 6am and I can hear the fucking things loud and clear even with the sound machine AND an earplug. By 11am I’d already heard them four times.

It’s just fucking ridiculous. Especially when I know these things can be made softer. Oh, the things people do and the money they’ll spend just to get attention from anybody and everybody. Are there that many people who feel neglected and like they haven’t gotten enough attention recognition in life that they have to force it on others? Whether it’s a power trip or a cry for acknowledgment, it really pisses me off when people force such noise on me. I don’t do it to others. I’m just sick of this shit and how there’s always one thing after another no matter where we go. Just when I think how it should be quieter now that the contractor is gone, we’ve got more motorcycles to deal with. If they were suddenly re-banned, as they should be, then more people would break out their saws and hammers. It’s like I’m always meant to listen to something. I wish the US would adopt Germany’s new Quiet Sunday law where loud sounds/machinery aren’t allowed on Sundays.

The motorcycle next to Jim usually only goes out on weekends. That cock takes a white pickup to work. The one with the orange motorcycle on the other side of the circle, however, is clearly not working. Like most people, they are in and out three or four times a day, and there’s only going to be more and more of them popping up around here, and we’re still going to be on what… the third busiest street in the park that’s right off of the busiest? Even if everybody complained… the park has already made up its mind and is going to do what they’re going to do no matter what.

I also saw a cock on a white motorcycle go slowly down the street looking at a piece of paper. They tore out of here a minute later, so they’re obviously looking to buy one of the houses for sale. Even if they weren’t, every few households have them, so it’s logical to assume that one or two out of the four houses is going to have one, and they obviously prefer the loudest kind here. So instead of the dryer or the stove, I want to get those windows done. If Tom wants to cut the expense to just one window instead of two, we can always swap bedrooms.

I’m surprised Arizona wasn’t a big motorcycle state. If they can ride in the cold (and it was really chilly in the low to mid-50s this morning just walking, so I was amazed anyone could go riding) I would think they would certainly be able to handle the heat. I almost wrote off Florida because of them and decided we should just shoot over the border into Nevada when he retires. There are way too many of them here and in Florida and they’re almost as bad as loud car stereos with their thumping bass that can be heard a million miles away.

On the bright side, the ridiculous noise levels despite living with old people are the worst of my problems and my only problem. Everything else is going well. I’ve had fewer earaches, and my hip is doing better.

The only thing I remember for dreams seems to be something about chatting with Jenny C and resuming our so-called friendship. I definitely wouldn’t have any desire to do that even if she lived right down the street. No hard feelings after nearly 30 years, just no desire to associate with her. Or Emily. Or even Jessie since I stopped hearing from her and deleted her on Facebook some time ago.

I don’t know if there’s something about me personally that loses people like I have or if it’s simply just a part of life, but I’m not about to change who and what I am either. I’d rather be myself and lose people and have only a few good friends, rather than be more like the rest of the world and meet their standards just to hang onto people more easily and acquire more friends.

Jenny dumped me because I had too many more problems than she could handle. I was still very young and had a lot of shit to work through. She left me to have to go it alone until I met Andy. Andy wasn’t always high on sensitivity and support, but he was there… until I cut ties with him because I couldn’t tolerate his negativity (I know in his mind he felt he was only being honest) or his arrogant, judgmental, and annoying ways.

Emily and I basically just drifted apart, though she may have been uncomfortable with my coming out. Again… no problem. Baring our true selves shows us just who our true friends are and who they aren’t. Some are proud of me for being me, others criticize it, not that I care. I mean I’m still going to do what I’m going to do. But yeah, if you don’t like one that can be blunt, liberal and a bit eccentric, then I’m not the friend for you. I don’t believe in invisible fantasies people call God. I don’t make excuses for my mother’s abuse because it’s “kind” or “correct” by saying she “did the best she could” or that she “must have loved me deep down.” I just don’t sugarcoat things is what I’m saying.