In editing out as many typos and grammatical errors as I can a few entries at a time in older journals, I felt a bit ashamed when I read some of the mean stuff I said in the heat of the moment when pissed at those I’m close to. This is all the more reason I hope they don’t stumble upon my blogs. I would never want to intentionally insult or offend anyone just because I said some stupid shit out of momentary anger in the past like most of us do at times.

Reading back on some of the past stuff not only helps me remember things I may have forgotten but to learn from my mistakes as well. I know I could be very mean, judgmental, and critical at times when I should be more tolerant and accepting. Even I admit I am a bit hypocritical at times. I certainly don’t mean to be, but we all make mistakes in life here and there.

Despite saying some nasty things in the heat of the moment, I am kind of torn as to whether or not I want to edit some things out. The thing is that a journal is supposed to be about our lives. Our experiences, our thoughts, our beliefs, our opinions, our everything. So if you were/are a part of my life in any way, then you were likely a part of my journal at some point. As for those who really burned me in the past, I have no qualms about anything I’ve said regarding them. For years, I lived in fear that they would find out my address and come to my door. But then that fear turned to anger and I almost hoped they would. So I have no problem with anything negative I’ve had to say about them. It’s those I’m close to or don’t know well that I feel a little bad about. So if anyone I know finds anything you don’t like, please accept my heartfelt apologies but also understand that whatever it was is likely in the past and was me simply venting. From here on out, I will try to make a point of keeping anything private that a particular person may find offensive. If it’s something negative about a group of people like the Scotus or people in general, then no. I still write for me and I still say no one is obligated to read my stuff. :) That being clarified and out of the way, I will move on.

I think I'm gonna forget the pulmonologist for now. Sometimes we just don’t sleep well and are tired. I still have my doubts about having sleep apnea or anything being wrong with my heart. I didn’t come here to make a career of seeing doctors. Nor do I want to be drowning in paperwork, phone calls and other health work that WE pay a monthly fee for. I know that it wouldn’t be just one appointment and that Tom needs to spend time looking for work. Furthermore, there’s nothing critical going on at the moment.

I’m about 1400 miles to the finish line. I have about 120 miles to go to reach the Belgian border. After I spend a little time in the Netherlands, I still wonder if I’m going to be able to cross the German border. Pretty sure they’re one of the countries that restrict Google Street View, and just because you can map it doesn’t mean you can ride it from what I’ve learned. I couldn’t cross over from South Africa to Namibia.

The night before last, I had fun rat dreams. There were two different dreams. I can’t remember the first one, but the rats were brown in both dreams. In the second dream, we were living in a place that was bigger than this because the living room and kitchen were practically the size of this whole place. Vinyl flooring ran throughout the place, and the rat was so big that it was practically pulling me across the floor when we were playing with the rainbow wand I got in real life. It was very playful and affectionate, and I’m hoping that means we’re going to end up with a great rat when we get it, which should be soon enough. I’m almost half on days again.

We’re looking forward to going to the beach too, for the first time in a while. Energy permitting, of course.

Last night, I didn’t sleep well, and I definitely didn’t have good dreams either. I was up a long time and only slept for six hours. Hopefully, I’ll crash earlier and sleep longer tonight. Or this afternoon to be more exact. I don’t think I’ll crash till the middle of the afternoon. Maybe even late afternoon.

Last night’s dream took place in this house, which is a rarity for me. I rarely dream of where I’m actually living. It’s either some totally foreign place or a strange version of a place I’ve lived in before.

Tom was asleep, but I was awake. It was the middle of the night, and I suddenly suspected the cops were outside. We were wanted for something, I guess. The only things that were different in the dream from reality were that we had a pet cat and the kitchen chairs didn’t have wheels on them. I had dragged a chair into part of the hallway and was working on some project there in total darkness. No clue what I was doing but the cat was asleep by my feet.

I peered around the wall between the little hallway area and the kitchen toward the front of the house. I didn’t see anything but then the kitchen light and another light came on, and I immediately suspected the cops were messing with our Alexas. As quietly as I could, I carried the kitchen chair back to the table, careful to put it down on the floor without making a sound, oblivious to the fact that even if the cops couldn’t see me through the closed blinds, they could probably see shadow movement.

Walmart is back to fucking up our orders again. They left out Tom’s margarine. He called to request a return but was told that people have to wait 48 hours before they can request returns due to fraudulent claims. Tom told the person he didn’t see what that had to do with the drivers not bringing everything we order to us, but we’re not idiots. What the person was really saying was, “Hey, we’ve been getting a shitload of complaints because we’re so incompetent. We’re not going to do a damn thing to improve ourselves either and we’re sick of all the complaints. This way, we hope that most people will forget about what we owe them, and then we will have successfully ripped them off.”

But he’s not going to forget, of course.

My Temu order came yesterday despite it being Memorial Day. The shawl may be a waste because it’s not tight-knit and therefore the rat's nails can go right through it. It's better than nothing though, and easier than pulling a shirt over my head.

When I first pulled out the angel figurine, I was disappointed by how small it was. But then Tom suggested I paint it, and I'm looking forward to doing that.