Let me do the freeloader update thing first. Bill was here today, and he left at the usual time of 4:30. Then a little while later, a black car was parked in the driveway that we’ve never seen before. Tom saw it as he was pulling in from getting me wax and getting a new filter for the AC duct. He said he saw a lady. During this car’s visit, I saw the bitch talking to the light blue car on the street for a minute. As I was going to listen to music, I heard the bitch yelling and saw her through the music room window talking to the lady who obviously just got into the black car. Yeah, as usual, she was pretty pissed. I don’t know if she was pissed at the lady or if she was just bitching to the lady about something that had her pissed off.

After the black car left, I could’ve sworn I heard a car door next door as I was in the bedroom talking with Tom, but when I went and looked (it was now dark) I saw no car. I saw that she did replace her porch light, though, and that that was on. It’s on right now, so I take it the cock or someone’s coming over. Maybe the car was over there but is in the carport and is just too hard to see in the dark, but I doubt it. Sometimes, though, their low cars are hard to see over that wall, even if I climb on a chair, cuz I’m so short.

Why is she always such a mean, mad, aggressive bitch? I can only imagine just what kind of mother she must be, and boy is it scary! The bitch changed her hairstyle. She’s got it in lots of braids, but it’s still tucked under at the nape of her neck. She looked sort of ridiculous from what I could see earlier (she was only about 10’ away) with some of the braids sticking out and hanging down. Her hair’s gotten long, though. To the middle of her back. Maybe a bit longer.

In my letter to Tammy, I enclosed some pictures of my dolls and some cute rat pictures I took last night. Just of Butterscotch and Ratsy, though. The two bravest. Porky and Mickey were camera shy. As I told her, though, I’ll get them shot sometime, and soon I’ll send pictures of us, too.

Tom and I didn’t get to have sex today as we’d planned, cuz he was too tired. Like I said, something up there does not want us to have sex during weekdays, but my crotch is basically only good for the weekends anyway, or else I’ll get sore. We did chat a bit, though, and we put together a list of the shit that’s gotta be done with this house. Here it is:

• Pick up roofing bits from the side and back of the house
• Gravel the front
• Replace the bathroom sink
• Fill in the AC hole in the back room
• Tear up back room carpet
• Finish the front security door (take off back screen door)
• Paint the inside and the outside of the house
• Fill in the holes in the back room ceiling
• Put a vent in the bathroom
• Sand the bedroom closet door
• Put a fence around the pool
• Repaint the pool steps

Later...

Lights off next door. I noticed this a few minutes ago, so maybe she just forgot they were on.

Thanks to Butterscotch, I had to wash my hair just now and it’s not even a wash day. That’s cuz I literally “scared the shit out of him.” I went to pick him up and he freaked. He squealed and shit in my hair and all over my shirt. Not the usual hard duties, but runny shit. So I had to shower and wash my hair. The poor guy. I made it up to him as best I could with some extra lettuce and cheese.

Paula and I have been playing more phone tag. I’ll try to call her earlier tomorrow.

I just left Andy a message telling him of my test results, that my cold turned out to be the easiest cold I ever had, and that I hoped his visit with Juliet went well. I told him I wanted to hear about it and to leave me a message. When I told him Friday that I had a cold, he asked if there was anything he could do for me. That was nice of him.

I’ll get on with the test results which are sort of unfuckingbelievable in a moment.

First, let me cover Tammy’s latest shit. Sarah passed out cuz of some lung problem, Tammy’s got lung fluid that leaked out of her lungs and into her ribs (if I heard her right), Lisa’s still rebellious, and a young mother (always a young mother), and her two sons died in a fire that lived nearby. Tammy’s worried they’ll all die like they did cuz Lisa’s throwing spent matches onto the floor which is littered with papers. She said Lisa will not clean her room or do anything she was supposed to do and is asked to do, so she called the state on Tammy, then Tammy blew up and called her a bitch. Lovely. Just lovely. I thought my sister’s motto was that two wrongs don’t make a right It’s a waste of time I know, but I told her that name-calling and pitching fits won’t help solve anything. Of course, the state’s not gonna do anything like they almost never do, and Tammy says she’s gonna kick Lisa out when she’s 16 on the 20th of this month. If they call us about taking Lisa, well, I don’t know if I want to anymore. I still love Lisa and I always will, no matter if I never see or talk to her again or not, but Tammy’s right about Lisa’s lying. Tammy may be a shit mom who makes a million mistakes, but she’s not bullshitting when it comes to Lisa’s lying. Even Lisa herself admitted to me she’s lied, and she lied to me about not contacting Larry, so now that trust has been damaged. Maybe we wouldn’t have the same relationship we have on the phone if she came to live with us. Maybe Tammy’s right and maybe Lisa would walk all over us and raise hell.

I reminded Tammy too, that she really ought to smoke outside if she’s not gonna quit. Sarah and Becky don’t need that secondhand smoke. Again, though, it’s her life and she’s gotta do what she’s gotta do. No one can tell her what to do.

Maybe I’ve got more Dureen in me than I’d like, cuz I’m still leaning toward walking when we move. Then again, Dureen would stick around and try to change the person rather than just walk away, whereas I say - if you don’t like someone, don’t have anything to do with them. Don’t try to change or control them, just walk away. It’s not that I don’t like her, Lisa, or the girls, of course. It’s just the same old shit that brings me down and sometimes pisses me the fuck off. Maybe I’m a wimp, but I can’t deal with the anger and with the same old problems with Bill and all that shit (although I guess he kept his paws to himself in Florida). Tom, naturally, doesn’t think I should walk. He said that’d be like my dumping Andy just because someone pissed him off. In other words, that’d be his problem that he’d have to work out. Yeah, I know, but still, it’s that last remaining tie to the past that I really feel needs to be severed. It’s not that I wouldn’t feel bad about walking cuz Tammy wouldn’t do that to me. And also, I know it’s gonna hurt Lisa. But they don’t need me any more than I need to be a part of their problems and a part of that painful past, and as they know and will learn, people come and go throughout our lives. The only problems I can deal with right now are any that may arise within my own household and even that can be hard. This sterility shit I’ve been dealing with for years can really take its toll on me. When it isn’t downright reducing me to tears, it’s still playing on a back burner within my mind. That feeling of being abnormal and being controlled and punished by God is still lurking within my subconscious.

I got my card reminding me it was time for a cleaning/check-up so I first called the dentist to see if I could schedule an appointment with Charlene the same day I see Melanie on the 1st, but couldn’t get in that day. Melanie answered, by the way. So I made the appointment for the 8th. Then I saw that Tom had jury duty that day, so I called back and got Tisha who’s the receptionist that’s always there when I go in, and told her I couldn’t make it that day. So she moved me to the 22nd, and the good of it is that I can see Melanie right after it and hit two birds with one stone.

Then I called Dr. Well’s office and left a message saying that I wasn’t too happy that I haven’t been called back since leaving the message I left last Thursday and to please get back to me. So Monique, doctor Well’s nurse, called me back explaining that she had a family emergency, my HSG test was normal, she’s mailing me papers all about their fertility work-ups that they do, the next step will be to see if I’m ovulating and check his sperm after we’ve had sex, and that one-hour consultation with the doctor.

In other words, if I want to keep going, even though I know damn well what the end results will be, I have to lower myself to more painful tests and deal with his not cumming on command. Not that we’d have the time to screw around for this test if I was mid-cycle during the week. I don’t know if this is no worse than a regular exam, or what. I guess he’s supposed to get off when I’m mid-cycle, then I’m supposed to go in there and have them scrape a sample of his cum from me to see if his sperm count’s too low. Maybe to see if I have that bacteria that kills sperm, too. The doctor’s also gonna do something to see if I ovulate, but I have no clue as to what this could entail. Maybe she’ll give me pills to make me ovulate, then use an ovulation predictor test to see if I ovulated like I’m supposed to.

Tom’s insisting that cumming on a schedule will be no problem just like how he told me he’d cum when he did the last time he did, but I don’t know. Sometimes he keeps his word with that, but most of the time he doesn’t. He even said that he can’t cum under pressure. He can’t just cum on cue.

How can my uterus be fine? This is what I don’t get. Does this mean the DES didn’t affect me in any bad way? If my uterus and fallopian tubes are OK, does this mean my eggs are fucked up? My first guess was the uterus, but my second guess is the eggs since they made a guinea pig out of me for so long with so many different medications. Tom said it could be anything from the way I wash myself down there after sex, to my body temperature. But I thought I gave it enough time in between sex and washing. Is it body chemistry? Hormones? Or am I perfectly normal? Maybe I am normal after all. Like I said, God doesn’t have to visibly alter one’s plumbing in order to make sure they never have a child.

I just called Paula who says she’s gonna call me back. She left a message earlier wanting to know if I could find a number for some guy in Texas. This time, instead of saying no, I’ll tell her I found a match and give her a bogus number. I know it’s dishonest, but the ditz won’t know the difference. It seems she only calls when she wants me to look for someone on the Internet. If it was as easy as snapping my fingers and having Paula here for a little visit, I would do it in a heartbeat. But if I were to never hear from her again, I can’t say I’d miss her. She’s just there at this point in my life. Just someone who exists that I know. I’ve known her since I was about 19.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a shitload of updating to do, and in the midst of taking breaks to sing, read, and watch some movies, I’m gonna get started. Let me back up and try to go in order of events.

The 7th, as I said before, was a nightmare. It was totally, totally miserable and just like old times. I felt like it was somewhere between 1994-1997 all over again. I just cried and cried and was so pissed off at God for taking away my right to choose what to do with my life/body. I was both sad and angry.

As my anger mounted and peaked, I decided that saying “You can’t fight God and win” would no longer cut it for me. I was gonna take back my rights as a woman, fight back, and beat God for sure. I was gonna get fixed, become all woman no matter how excruciating, and make that mistake that should’ve been mine to make a few years ago. And I was gonna soak up every miserable moment of that mistake, too.

The next day, and since then, I was back to my old self, thank fucking God! I know I can’t fight God and win and change fate. Also, I do not want a child. I want to live. I want to be free. I just hope to hell that the 7th was a rare setback and that it’ll mostly, if not completely, remain a thing of the past. There’s nothing like being as angry and as depressed as I was, feeling cheated, feeling controlled, and cursed by this non-empathetic, controlling God! Never do I want to experience that hopeless despair again!

Tom was very supportive, reminding me that it’s OK to feel as I did. He heard a report on TV about how fertility clinics should really keep in mind that women are angry. They’re angry if they can’t conceive, they’re angry if they do conceive and have to go through all that shit just to do it when no woman should have to in the first place. No one should have to work for or pay for getting pregnant. People should have the right to do what they want with their own lives and with their own bodies. Period.

Anyway, I’ll never have a child, I know that, I’m OK with that as I have been for about a year now, but I still do intend to call this doctor’s office Monday and give them a piece of my mind. Tom says it’s like this everywhere nowadays where it’s a battle just to get a doctor to call you back. Do I think it’s a sign anyway? Yeah, I’m sure it is, but still, I called Thursday and I should’ve been called back by now. Tom says there’s a chance she may not have worked on Friday, but nonetheless, I’m gonna make it clear in my message that when I leave a message, I want to be called back. Also, I want to know what the test results were (in her words) and find out what the next step is if there is a next step. This isn’t over till I say it is!

I’ve got to take charge of my own life and of my own body. If I don’t, God will just keep taking and taking and controlling and controlling. I’m not gonna be God’s little victim. His character that he uses in a script that he wrote out. Fuck that shit! He gave me this life and this body and now it’s mine! All mine.

Tom put in Plexiglas strips around the sides of the floors in the rat’s cage, but plenty of sawdust still seeped out and made quite a mess. So, I took the floors out and was gonna have him make wire floors so that their shit would fall down through to the bass, which is like a huge litter box, but then I got an even better idea which I set about doing. I love it and so do the rats. Tom thinks it’s cool, too. Instead of having the shelves make complete floors for them to piss and shit all over if they’re bare, knock sawdust out if I put any in, and be hard for me to clean, either way, I put shelves in, but not from one wall to another making a floor. I made steps instead, and this way, the shelves are easier to pop out and clean. This is so much better! They make much less of a mess, it’s easier to clean, and that’s less sawdust I have to deal with and vacuum up.

This cold, which is practically all gone now, turned out to be the easiest cold I ever had. I had a sugar craving just like Tom did with his and ate like a pig for two days. I had two candy bars and lots of little donuts. Can’t believe I’m not over 111 pounds.

We got our digital camera a few days ago and it’s great! I love it! It’s easy to use, too. Tom showed me how to shoot pictures, then transfer them to the computer and into the folder I want them in. I took some doll pictures, and sometime soon I’ll take some animal pictures and some of us. That way Tammy and the girls can see the weight I’ve lost and how long my hair is!

Tom and I laughed together over my idea for the freeloaders. I thought I’d shoot some pictures of their house, then superimpose a mouse or something to make it look like they have a giant rat on their roof and a giant mouse on their porch. Something like that. I tried to shoot pictures through the blinds today of the bitch and her sister, but all I got were the blinds since it focuses on what’s closest. Still, a picture of one of them ought to really creep them out! I’ll have to learn to manually focus it. A shot of Bill’s car and the house would be lovely for them to have, too.

I guess tomorrow it’s back to the usual weekday routine for the freeloaders. Today, the cock came in at around 2:00 to watch a football game. I heard two door slams while I was in the bathroom. One for the teenage boy? Anyway, it was here till 5:00. While the cock was here, the sister in the white car was out front fighting with the bitch. At least it looked like the bitch was arguing with her and mad about someone. She was born mad, I swear! They were standing by the car, which was parked on the street since the cock had the driveway. Part of it, anyway. The sister was holding a baby and then I saw the bitch’s mistake and some other kid about that same size. They’re so fucking weird, cuz at one point, the sister started walking down the street and the bitch was kneeling down doing something to the ground, but I couldn’t make out what the fuck it was. Amazingly, there were no ball games today.

It looks like Kim got her computer back together again. She sent me a few messages. One updating me on her life, then a couple with jokes. It sounds like her life is typical. She’s just living with Walter in Northampton, instead of alone in Deerfield.

Got quite a bit of updating to do. For starters, the freeloaders have been doing exactly what I knew they’d do, but at least we haven’t had setbacks with the music. Or with the bass, I should say.

The bitch got back at 6 PM on the 7th, which turned out to be a miserable day for me, but I’ll get into that later. Anyway, it looks like Bill went with the cock and bitch to the Midwest. I assume Bill went too, cuz I never saw him checking on the house while the bitch was gone, and what’s the bitch doing - leaving her father alone every Christmas? Somehow, I don’t think so. I think the three of them went to the airport in the cock’s car. When they returned, I think the cock dropped Bill off, then its bitch. There wasn’t much in the way of door-slamming that night, and the cock didn’t stay long. After a long flight, I’m sure the cock was sick of its bitch and of its mistake, and just wanted to get the hell home. I saw the cock pull a large duffel bag from the trunk, and that’s about it. Just a few door slams. The cock wasn’t even here for an hour.

Meanwhile, the bitch has been making up for lost time as far as company and door slamming goes and has begun the payback for the roofing noise. I knew she would. Like I said, I know these freeloaders. I can anticipate just about their every move.

The bitch didn’t work yesterday, but it went out with Bill at 2:00. Probably to do some grocery shopping. At 4:00, the cock was in and out, and at 5:00 Bill brought the bitch back. At 6:15, part of the payback began. For about five minutes, I heard really loud voices. Yeah, the bitch had to make a big fucking production out of the light blue car’s picking her up. All I could make out, though, was “I’ll get you something at Wal-Mart.” Anyway, I heard about two kids and two adults. There were at least ten door slams. If these people were normal in any sense of the word, her ride would pull up and maybe honk if she weren’t looking for her ride or standing out front, then there’d be just two door slams. One for her and one for her mistake, and that’s it, but no. She’s gotta make a big show of it in regard to me.

I could’ve sworn I heard two door slams when the cock came and went while she was out on Friday with Bill, and I think I know who that other dude is that he sometimes comes over with. I think it’s that teenage boy I spoke to when I’d had my fill with the dog sitting outside my bedroom barking. I think that her lease allows that house only to her and her kid and that both he and this kid got kicked out. I think the kid moved in with the cock. Well, where is its mother? In jail? Too doped up to give a shit? Or was she killed by an enemy or fellow gang member?

Anyway, the way I know the bitch went out last night when that car came in at 6:15, is cuz there were no lights on inside the house. She had to have gotten back after I crashed, though.

The biggest thing I figured the bitch would sic on me for the roofing noise would be ball games. More so than voices and door slamming. She’d really love to sic the bass on me, but she can’t, cuz she knows she’ll get evicted if she does. Well, I was right about the ball games. I just knew there would be ball games this weekend, next weekend at the latest, but it didn’t go on for hours and hours like I thought it would.

Today, the light blue car came and went and came again a few minutes later. Then a black boy in a dark green sports shirt about 12 years of age came out to play ball, but only for a few minutes. The fan in the bedroom and the air cleaner in the living room, do a great job at drowning this out, so since we haven’t got much time left here (I hope) I don’t give a fuck if they play ball every day from here on out. I’ve got fans and I’ve got cordless headphones for music and even for the TV if I just had to watch something while they were out balling around. And I’ll bet you anything that that bitch coaxed him into playing, too.

So then after a few minutes of him slam-dunking, out comes two black ladies putting shit in the trunk. I saw a bright blue stroller, and what looked like party bags being put in the trunk. The back seat looked like it was loaded with 2-4 kids. I couldn’t tell for sure who the hell these girls were. One had braids and that might’ve been the bitch. After all, she needed a change of style and had had her old style for way too long. The other had nice hair for being black. They usually have lamb’s wool for hair. It was loose, kind of one length, and about an inch or two below the shoulders. She wore a dull-colored outfit, though. A long-sleeved olive blouse, and was it dull orange/yellow pants? Or jeans? Someone had jeans on. Anyway, they were both around the same height and weight and I think it was the bitch and its sister.

So, they take off and it’s about noon. At 5:30, just as the sun was setting, it was back. And so was the dark green sports shirt and its basketball. It played for about 20 minutes, then bye-bye went the car and the dark green sports shirt and its basketball. Some would say I should’ve sabotaged the damn hoop while they were gone, but it wouldn’t have done me any good. If a giant hole opened up in the ground and swallowed that thing right up, they’d just replace it. And if not, they’d just dribble the ball in the driveway to get at me.

The night is young. It’s only 7:00. Got more company to go for that bitch. I just checked and although it’s not as bright as usual, there is a light on over there, so I think the bitch is home and that any more company will go inside the house to see her there. And I’d think it’s too dark to be playing any more ball today.

I’m sure tomorrow will be a repeat of today. Cars in and out, door slams on and off, and 2-3 spurts of ball playing. God help them if they ever even think of returning to basing me out!

I have much more to write about, but I’ve got a little cold that I came down with on the 7th, thanks to Tom and his constant colds, so I’ll do it later. This has been an easy cold, though. I’m not nearly as bad off as I got last year when I had a cold.

Right again, as usual. I did get my full flow today. However, it’s so wimpy! Nothing hits the pad. It’s just what I wipe off. On the bright side, what I wiped off was too much to be pregnant with, but I’m really wondering more and more about a hormone imbalance or early menopause. So I left a message with the doctor about this. I was told she’d call me at the end of the day. Fine. Maybe she can tell me about the tests I took while we’re at it.

Once again, I am totally, totally sterile! No fertile woman should’ve gotten her period when I did if she had sex just two days prior to being mid-cycle, but you know me. Nowadays I see it as a gift. Not a curse. I just wish God would’ve left the choice to me! Yeah, but while that’s easy to say, we know damn well I’d have made the wrong choice in the past had it been mine to make, and today I’d be lifelessly sitting around regretting it. I just wish the doctor would call and tell me there were no choices to be made, cuz my uterus is that fucked up, cuz that’d just make this whole thing so much easier. Just tell me what I know isn’t meant to be so I can move on in life! No more excruciating tests for nothing! I’m not meant to have any say in this matter, and my days of struggling for what’s not meant to be are over. I’m going with the flow of God’s plan for me, like it or not, and that’s that.

Later...

Tom installed a new modem on my computer that’s faster for when I’m on AOL or the web or something like that. It’s not lightning fast, since phone wires can only transmit information through them so fast, but it is faster than what I had before.

It’s also supposed to have caller ID and when someone calls, the number’s supposed to show up on the monitor, but I haven’t gotten any calls in which to test it out yet. Of all these fucking sales calls we get, none has called yet since I’ve been awake and functional.

Tom’s taking his mom to an appointment today.

Tom doesn’t think Mom will make it throughout the year. Well, I hope he’s right and I’m wrong, cuz regardless of how nice she is compared to most people, she needs to go. She’s done her time here on this earth, there’s nothing more she can do or live for except to burden others, so she needs to pass on and we need to move on. I know God’s gonna really get me for this by making sure no one’s around to take care of me and help me out when I get old, but I already knew he’d do this to me no matter what I felt about his mother. I’m just sick of her and her needs. They may have lessened greatly since she sold that fucking house, but still, she needs to go, and God help Mary and Dave or someone else if they think Tom will then wait on them left and right after she’s gone.

Andy, for whatever reason, isn’t able to come over anytime in the near future to get that extra comforter I have for him, his notes, and to see the place. He’s gonna be busy doing temp work for the next two weeks, so maybe he’ll come over then. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like it or trust his junky car. He did mention only driving when necessary. So, I’m gonna mail him the notes.

He left a message yesterday saying he was sorry the phone appointments didn’t work out. Donna was bummed too. I knew it was too good to be true; simply making appointments all day and getting $10 a pop, but that’s OK, cuz as I told Andy and Donna, the work was dull and I’d rather make dolls and do something more uppity, even if it’s for shit money. Although, if it had worked out, I’d have done it for a while anyway. Meanwhile, Donna’s gonna pick up the papers she gave me some time over the next few days.

Andy says his friend Juliet’s coming in from California. The one I met back east a couple of times. We all went to the beach together once, and she was with us at one of the bars. Anyway, he mentioned coming over for a visit with her this weekend. He just doesn’t listen or get it when I tell him I’m tied up on weekends! So, I simply told him I’d be busy, which is true, and that she’s his friend. I still don’t want to get into buddy sharing with him, although Donna’s an easygoing enough person to have done business with.

He says he does not want to give up Phoenix but he has to cuz he wants love. Andy, you are not gonna give up Phoenix for nothing and nobody! You know it. I know it. So end it. You’re not destined for a relationship, and if you were, you still couldn’t have one cuz you’re too damn selfish to have a successful one.

Today, the collies are doing a fine job of making up for lost barking time.

Later...

Wow. If you ask me, these teeth are moving really fast. They’re not overlapping anymore, on the bottom, and there are only three teeth that are out of place.

I hope Tom gets home soon. He needs to work tonight, so he can’t be out catering to Marjorie all day. Maybe he’ll give her the last remaining bits of his cold and she’ll die now.

Later...

Oh, how I hate that woman!!! I’m soooooo fucking pissed off right now, I can barely type! Marjorie, drop dead you fucking asshole! Drop dead! I need my husband right now. I’m depressed and I really need to talk to him now, but no! He has to be catering to you. Well, who’s fucking husband is he, Marge? Gee, I thought he was my husband! God, I hate you, you fucking burden! I’m sick of you interfering with this relationship. I’m sick of you taking my husband’s time when I need him. I’m sick of you causing him to lose sleep, to lose more of his valuable time, his life, and I’m sick of you!! God, why won’t you kill this woman, NOW!!! I could scream, I’m so fucking furious and fed up with this user!

That depression’s really turning into anger and frustration pretty fast, that’s for damn sure. Still, I need my husband. I need to talk to him and vent these emotions. It won’t change a damn thing, but it helps perk me up. It’s like an alcoholic who drinks when she’s upset. It doesn’t fix her problem, and maybe nothing can, but it helps to temporarily make her feel better so she can cope and get through the tough times.

I don’t know why I’m so depressed today. I haven’t been this depressed in a long time. It feels just like old times, and this is scary. Is this gonna be a rare thing? Or am I gonna go back to being depressed over being controlled by God on a regular basis? I thought having periods was supposed to take away depression. Anyway, no, I don’t want a kid, but I still feel depressed, confused, angry, frustrated, and cursed at the way God’s dictated my life for me in so many more ways than is the norm. I don’t have a full bag of rights as a woman, I never will, and that still pisses me off and saddens me, whether I want a kid or not. How can God do this to a woman, and why me? What did I do that was so horrible that I deserve this? Why? Why?! Why me? He gave this body to me, so why can’t I use it the way I want to? He gave this life to me, so why can’t I do what I want with it? Well, the truth is my body and life don’t fully belong to me and they never will, so when the fuck am I gonna just get over it and on with my life? I mean, I did such a good job of it last year. I came to accept myself as I am and I was content to live life as I am, half-woman and all. I came to see how wonderful things would be without a child. I still see how wonderful they’ll be, but when am I gonna get over not having a say in the matter and get over the depression and the feeling like God’s picking on me?

At 10:00 I’m gonna call Donna. I called Tom at work and asked him if he wanted me to have Donna come over when he’s home so he can be there too to hear what she has to say, but he said no. He trusts my judgment. Just be careful of what I get into. Of course.

Although I only had a little spot on the 4th, and one on the 5th, and today, I think my period’s getting ready to start. It may be a half-assed one, but I think that by tomorrow I’ll have enough of a period to drain the soreness from my chest. Thank God!

I’m pretty bloated right now and I guess you could say I’m watery too. I didn’t go over 1000 calories yesterday, yet today I’m up to 111 pounds.

I don’t know how long I’ll give the doctor to contact me before I contact her, but we’ll see. I don’t know why I even bother. I know what I want. I know what’s meant to be, so why put myself through more hell? I got my questions answered, as far as I’m concerned. I have a bum uterus. Time to move on. Time to follow God’s plans for me. Just like I have all along, and just like everyone else in this world does.

If there was just one more thing, I’d change about this new rat cage, I’d take out those solid plastic floors and put wire floors in. That way the duties would fall to the bottom, and I wouldn’t have to worry about sawdust. We may as well take these Plexiglas strips out Tom wasted his time and money putting in, cuz they’re still making a mess, kicking sawdust out all over the place. I think an all-wire cage would look better, too.

It fucking figures that my shows didn’t get taped last night. That’s another common VCR problem I’ve had - it doesn’t record anything. Why do electronic things only work half of the time for me? Anyway, I’m not gonna play VCR hit or miss. If I’m up on Tuesdays between 7:00-9:00 PM I’ll watch the shows live if they’re on.

Later...

Tom was right, and so were my vibes. It’s not that this thing of Donna’s is illegal or anything complicated. It’s that it doesn’t get me anywhere. As Tom and I figured, I can’t get appointments set up cuz either the person who handles that is out, or they’re just not interested. The work is also pretty boring. I rather make dolls, even if it’s not good money! But I said I’d try it out and I did. It would’ve been an OK job to do if it could be done, though, and Donna would’ve been a nice person to do business with, but oh well. You can’t make something work that’s not meant to be. I hope Andy won’t let this influence his decision to ever make appointments for her, cuz what may not work out for one person, may work out for another.

Tom got our new digital camera! He says it’s not gonna be a complicated deal to use and that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. All I want to do is take pictures, put them on the computer where I want them, and that’s basically it.

Later...

The white car just pulled out from next door. I never even heard it pull in in the first place. Guess the bitch will be back anytime now. Tom says the storms have let up.

Fucking cat. He’s so fucking weird! He won’t come in and eat unless someone’s in here with him, and you practically have to invite him over to his bowl. If you just open the door and walk away, he sometimes just sits there and whines, rather than eats. If you let him in, then go right outside yourself, he’ll just stay at the door whining. He can’t even walk by himself to his fucking bowl and eat! Why do I always attract such weird cases? At least he’s not into things and being all destructive like Shadow was.

Now here’s something totally shocking, that I didn’t sense, and that’s absolutely wonderful. I haven’t heard the collies. I noticed how quiet they were yesterday. So yesterday and today I haven’t heard them. Are they there? Are they just being unusually quiet? Or did someone finally get fed up and kill them? If someone killed them, they’d be over here blaming me, so I doubt that. Maybe someone took legal action against all the barking, though, but I don’t know. It’s been great. I love being able to go out back and not have to listen to their deafening barking bounce off of those block walls. The dogs would sound like they were just over the wall in the freeloader’s yard when they’d go off, and any dog barking in the freeloader’s yard is like, oh my fucking God! It’s like it’s right in front of your face. It’s too soon to say for sure what the scoop is, but if they’re gone, I hope it’s at least till we’re out of here! I hope they don’t come back. Or two new dogs to replace them.

I wish to hell I wouldn’t have to have such long drawn-out PMS like this! Why do I have to spot for a handful of days first? Can’t I just get my period normally and be done with it? This is two extra days of the backaches, the water, the bloating, and the pre-cramps.

Initially, I was gonna wait till February to call the doctor if I hadn’t heard from her, and I asked Tom if he thought that’d be too long. He said he felt it’d be too long and suggested the end of January. Maybe I’ll shoot for Lisa’s birthday, which is the 20th. Although, what can she tell me? She can only tell me what I already know. Even if they could fix me, and even if I were willing to pay the price to be fixed, and even if I could handle the fixing, went back to wanting a kid, and was made so I could conceive, then did conceive, God would only make me miscarry that child, so what’s the point? He’s not gonna allow me to get into anything I can’t handle or that isn’t a part of his plan for me.

Later...

They’re there. Yeah, I knew the absence of the collies was too good to be true. They were just having a quiet spell. As soon as I heard the school bus, I ran out back knowing that the kids usually set the dogs off when they go down the back alley. Sure enough, they went off.

I didn’t sense the dogs leaving like I would normally sense something like that. If there had been any money to make with this appointment-making thing, I’d have sensed that too. I do sense I’ll have my period by tomorrow. Thank God!

Tom also got me a faster modem, which God knows I could use.

Later...

Now that was weird. I happened to have stepped up to the window in time to see the white car come in. Not the typical white car, but one with blond hair in it. I knew it was the lady from the red pickup right away. Whoever the driver was stayed in the car the whole time cuz I’d hear her talk to the driver as she passed by him. She got out of the car, walked through the carport to the back gate, then apparently had trouble opening it. She walked up the carport, said something to the driver I couldn’t hear, then went and got a chair off the front porch and brought it back to the back gate. She stood up on that to open it and was in the back for about two minutes. She came back out and brought the chair back to the front, said something inaudible as she passed the driver, and got in the car and left. Why would this bitch need two people checking the house? She must be really fucking paranoid!

Later...

Tom just got up with a duty belly and told me his opinion on the freeloaders. He thinks that due to her and her cock being stranded, the white car’s probably showing up daily just to see if she’s back yet, and the blond lady’s probably from the church and came to pull her mail in so it wouldn’t jam up in the slot. Tom said it’s not uncommon to have different locks for your front and back doors, so she probably only has a key to the back door. He said the two minutes fit. That’s about how long it’d take to open the back sliding door and put the mail on a counter or something like that.

Still no jury dismissal notice. I hope they know I’m not going. I don’t do courts. Period. And if I ever do step foot into a courthouse again, it’s gonna be to sue someone for a rather large sum of money. Of course, I hope to hell neither of us is ever fucked over that bad that we’d need to sue like that, cuz usually, that’s why you sue for a large amount of money.

I added more icons to my desktop. For quite a while, I had just one vertical row of icons, but now I have two and a half. I put more things on there that I frequently use.

I woke up two days ago at 108 pounds, yesterday at 109 pounds, and today at 110 pounds. Gotta watch it, I guess.

All I had so far was that little spot yesterday. Am I gonna be a few days late or a week late? So far, I’ve never been more than a week late, except for that time in ‘96 when I spotted for two weeks before getting my period two weeks late. You never know with my screwy periods. I could end up skipping regularly! That’d be nice. Still, maybe my hormones are a little screwy and maybe I am going to have early menopause. I haven’t had as many pre-cramps today, but I sure did yesterday! I could swear my period was starting at times.

As I knew it would, my last vibrator broke. Why are these things so undependable? I don’t think that’s really the case, though. I think I’m just as hexed with these things as I am with other things. When it comes to sexual-related stuff, I’m always hexed. This is the third vibrator that didn’t last very long, but hey, nothing good sexually ever lasts for long when it comes to me if it even comes to me in the first place. I doubt I’ll ever get vibrators again, but if I do, I’m gonna get about four at once and not two since they’re just gonna break on me so soon. Everything breaks on me sooner than it should!

The CD club that Tom and I have used several different times over the years now claims you don’t have to send in monthly selection cards anymore, which was a hassle. You now only send in forms when you want something. I’m sure there’s a catch and I’m sure they’re gonna get pushy and send CDs we didn’t even order to try to push more sales, but we’re gonna go for it anyway. You get to start off with 15 free CDs! You only pay shipping and handling and 40% of the cost of one CD.

Linda has a new album out and I didn’t even know it. Andy didn’t tell me either, so I guess both of us aren’t keeping up with these things as much these days. It’s called We Ran. I hope it’s not as bad as her last English album which had all shitty songs on it. Her second to last Spanish one sucked too, that I didn’t even get her last Spanish one.

Linda’s smartening up as far as her weight goes. Since she’s too fat to really look good on an album cover, she just shows her eyes on this one. So does Gloria on her last one. Gloria still looks much better than Linda. Gloria’s about 120-135 pounds and she’s about 40 years old. Linda’s 50 years old and weighs around 180 pounds.

Tom and I did some errands yesterday. We went to Petco and got green sawdust for the mice (I use white for the rats and pig), alfalfa, food, nibble sticks, another bottle and holder (although it turns out I didn’t need the fucking holder!) and that’s it, cuz they didn’t have the bigger balls. We’ll get one some other time.

Then we went to the bookstore where I got eleven books for $14. I looked more in the movie section, but they were just too predictable. I did get The Guardian, though. The one Norah was in and that I think she looked the best in. Also, one of them is a good book, but it turns out that I already read it.

Lastly, we went to Walgreens where we got a variety of stuff. He got some junk food and some orange juice for his cold. He says it helps him to feel better if he drinks juice. He got some cold stuff, too. We got me that chromium picolinate, which Tom says he read that anyone with diabetes in their family should take. Yeah, leave it to Dureen to still affect me from across the country! He read that they’re still not sure whether or not it controls appetites and causes weight loss. I think it helps with hunger, but it doesn’t help with losing weight.

Got a couple more nail kits. The same design as before - red with black, white-tipped swirls.

Got a steamer too, and it helped to get Patrice’s wrinkles out better than I thought it would. It’s a good thing to have. Especially if you’re a doll collector.

Got some pistachio nuts that I shared with the animals, some filters for the water filter, and other odds and ends.

Later...

I saw the white car with the rack on its trunk next door yesterday at 5:30. However, once again, it’s a ghost town over there. Bill isn’t there, and I haven’t heard any car doors. She could be still in the house since it’s still only just after 10:00, but I get an empty feeling from over there. Well, we’ll see what happens, but I don’t sense she’s moving, and there’s no blasting music coming from over there which would be a moving sign. Unless they were to remain dependent on the city and move from one subsidized house to another, which I can’t see happening, she’s not gonna obey the city’s shut-up commands if she were suddenly detached from them.

The collies have been quieter since the freeloaders have split.

Later...

It looks like one of my guesses about the bitch may be right. I felt she either went to L.A. or Chicago. Well, I think she did go somewhere in the Midwest. And if she did, that’d explain why she’s not back yet. She can’t get back with all the ice storms they’ve been having. The white car only came to check on the house. No wonder there wasn’t a ton of door slamming and no wonder the car wasn’t here long.

Someone with the last name M had to have had this number at one point. You know how we used to get a lot of calls for a Carol M? Well, one just came in looking for a Michelle Marie M in regard to her high school reunion.

Later...

I just talked to Andy and Donna about a potential job for me that’s at home and that’s under the table. Well, supposedly all I have to do is call businesses and try to set up appointments for her to meet with them to sell them legal services and I’d get $10 an appointment. It sounds too easy, though. There’s got to be a catch. I mean, wouldn’t most of these businesses say they weren’t interested, or that they already had services? Anyway, Donna gave me her number and I’ll call her tomorrow either way. I won’t leave her hanging. I’ll give her a yes or a no. If I give her a yes, and I very well might, she’ll be coming over here to give me the list of businesses to call since she has a car, and since Tom will be gone when I get up. She’s gonna have her 2½-year-old with her and that thing’s not coming into this non-baby-proof house to break my dolls and more. They are way too destructive at that age, so she agreed to meet outside the house with me. Anyway, I won’t write anymore about it till I find out more.

Later...

The same white car just pulled in and left shortly after. The sun’s setting now, and once it gets dark I’ll be able to tell if the bitch is over there by if there are lights on, but I doubt it. These trips with the white car have just been way too quiet. Whenever the bitch gets picked up or dropped off, there’s a whole slew of door-slamming, but not this time. No unpacking sounds. I haven’t seen anyone or heard any voices, and that bitch has a loudmouth. This car is quietly coming and going with just one door slam. Guess it’s just one person. There’s been no music, so she’s not moving. Thank God. I never thought I’d want her to stick around this bad!

Destiny has arrived. Yup, still as sterile as a doorknob and still as psychic as can be in that department. Thank fucking God! Of course, I can’t just get my period normally. I have to spot 3-4 days before getting a half-assed flow.

Tom got in about an hour ago and he just went to bed. I’m gonna get him up at 10:30, then we’re gonna go to Walgreens, Petco, and the bookstore.

Later...

I was just checking out my teeth in the mirror and could see what I felt last night. When the teeth move, you suddenly notice it. You’ll feel them with your tongue day after day, and then just suddenly, you’ll notice a difference. Well, last night I noticed another area in the bottom teeth that’s shifted. Of all the bottom teeth that are crooked, there are only five. Three of these five teeth are close to where they’re supposed to be and at this rate, it’s hard to believe it’ll take a whole year, now ten more months, to straighten these teeth. Maybe the next time I see Melanie on February 1st, she can give me more of an accurate time frame as to when the top braces will come off.

Tom says there are sick people where he works, but just like with his last cold, I’m wondering about Shiny. He sneezed a couple of times a few days ago and I promised to kick him right out of the house if he sneezed again, but he didn’t. Could he be giving Tom colds? I don’t know. It seems inevitable that Tom gets so many colds regardless of whether we have a cat or not. He sneezed again today, but only once.

Where are these freeloaders? I cannot believe this bitch isn’t back yet! If she’s back, she came in after I went to bed. Well, we’ll see if Bill shows up, but I have an empty feeling coming from over there. It’s been great not having to listen to the door slamming that goes on over there every day, but shouldn’t this bitch be back by now? I never thought I’d be getting antsy for this bitch to return! We need to be the ones to move first and I need to make her a certain delivery!

Anyway, I’d say that bitch definitely went with its cock to its cock’s parents’ house. It’s obvious that the bitch’s mother is dead, and that the cock’s parents are out of state. Bill’s the only parent figure I see visiting. If the bitch’s mom existed, even if it existed out of state, wouldn’t we see it come to visit from time to time? The cock’s parents probably couldn’t afford to come visit when it lived here, so that’s why he and its bitch went to them. I don’t know if the cock’s parents are really old, married, or what, but they’re in someplace like L.A. or Chicago. Another way I can tell she’s with the cock, is because if she had taken off herself, the cock would be coming over here daily to check on the house, do its laundry, etc.

Today’s the day we find out what our stock options are. Tom says it won’t be till the middle of the month before he’ll be more sure about us moving in June, or unsure. I don’t have a good vibe about this, nor do I have a bad one. I still think we’ll move in June. Definitely between June and August. I just hope those freeloaders are here to see us do it!

We found the reason why Shiny’s been limping. We thought it was some sort of arthritis at first, but it appears his claws are fucked up. One of his back paws has claws overlapping.

I threw the old foam mattress out back and rolled it up making a sort of a muff. He really likes to nestle in it during those cold nights and early mornings.

Later...

Andy left a message saying he got my “nasty” letter, which was well written, and he wasn’t mad over it. He selfishly admits, though, that that’s great that he can eat on the phone with me and that I accept him as he is because as I myself said, he’s gonna do the opposite of what people ask of him, anyway.

So in other words, what he’s saying is - don’t ask me A cuz I’ll just do B. That’s how he’s always been! I do accept him as he is and I don’t want him to feel like I’m trying to control or change him, but I still think that people should comply with the wishes of their loved ones as long as they’re not too much or unrealistic. If they’re simple little requests that were asked of them and not demanded of them, what’s wrong with compromising? Andy can’t even do that, but we all have our selfish points. Still, if he wants a successful relationship, he’s gonna have to learn to compromise.

Anyway, he says he wasn’t even eating when he left that last message to me. He was chewing on his nails. Whatever. He also says that eating on the phone is a regular habit of his. Well, to each their own, but how does he enjoy his food that way, and how does he not choke? Also, if he’s so hung up on youth and thinness, especially thinness, why does he eat like a pig?

I sent him another letter as a little compensation for the last one. This one’s more of our old kind of letters without the lectures. I enclosed a few notes too, from the bunch I made up for him for whenever the fuck I see him, and put some pictures on the back of the envelope, but he’s too stoned to really want to do much of anything, although he did say something about helping out his friend Donna at a company she works at. Something about making appointments. I’ll have to ask him more about it. He didn’t really get into it.

Another day off from the sales calls, then I’ll have six days of them calling constantly.

I went to bed at around 6:00 last night and from what Tom’s said, who stood up a little later, the freeloaders still aren’t back yet. They’ll be back today then. Thank God they waited till Sunday. I was hoping they’d come back today and not yesterday or the day before. So, lots of door-slamming today! Not only are they gonna slam doors as they usually do, but they’re gonna slam them a little harder than normal, so they can really let me know they’re back.

I was really watery yesterday and took a water pill. I woke up at 108 pounds.

Later...

Today we put the 2” high strips of Plexiglas around the base of each floor in the rat’s cage. This should help keep sawdust in better than it would’ve otherwise. It was really gross how they’d piss on the bare floors before. They need something to absorb their piss.

Tom said Evie lost a lot of weight. That’s not what she told me when we last talked, but good for her.

Yesterday, there were some weekend bangers, but nothing too bad. I saw the little girl in the rental, along with some teenage girl, roller-skating down the street and in their driveway. Tom said he saw many people out and about yesterday as he was coming home. It was a beautiful day. A beautiful and polluted day.

I still can’t believe that any kids at the rental haven’t waltzed on over to play ball at the freeloader’s. It’s obvious they aren’t home, but kids don’t need someone to not be home in order to just go play on their property. Even more so, I can’t believe the collie kids haven’t played in months. Where are they, anyway? Those kids are wild. I usually hear them out front or out back, but not lately.

We had sex earlier. It was predictable and typical. Of course, it didn’t help that he’s got another one of his fucking colds. I’m sorry he doesn’t feel well, but God, I’m so fucking sick of these colds of his! Every 3-4 fucking months! He said it’s because he works with people who go to work sick, which people don’t normally do. Yeah, leave it to me to have my husband working with a bunch of freaks. Well, can’t someone talk to these people? They should make it a general rule that if you’re sick, you should stay home. You’re not only risking making the people you work with sick, but you’re risking making their families sick too, but that’s our selfish society for you. So now I have to deal with his cold too, and have our lives put on hold for the millionth time. Either someone needs something, something needs fixing, or he’s sick. God, it gets old! I haven’t had a cold since last January, so I’m hoping that I get as lucky as I was with his last few colds and don’t get this one. I’m not the one here, though, with an immune system as weak as a child’s or an old person's. I used to be that way, but what is this? Now that I get over my catching one cold after another, I have to live with someone who does just that?

I prayed to God twice to help take away this constant anger I have almost every day. I could be doing whatever, then suddenly, I want to kill Larry or Bill or someone. The last thing I want is to be angry at these subhuman losers for the rest of my life. They’re in my past now, and I want the anger to be a part of the past, too. God, life isn’t fair! I mean, I know these people aren’t going through this. They don’t have me suddenly pop in their heads and get so angry that it eats at them. Why me? Why is it always me? If it isn’t, I sure feel like it is. Since I have to give in order to get, I tried bargaining with God and agreed to accept the fact that these people invade my dreams constantly, if he’d just curb my constant anger.

Two nights ago I prayed to God to show me in my dreams a sign as to whether or not Measles was alive, and if there’s any way possible, that I don’t see or sense, that I could be wrong about being destined to remain childless, like it or not. This stemmed from my asking for his guidance once again, as far as the sterility issue is concerned. I told him that I still don’t want a child, accept his decision to keep me childless, and will do the right thing and not fight him should I ever find myself wanting a child again someday. However, is there a chance I could be wrong about God’s intentions? I don’t see how I could be wrong any more than I see Tom killing 20 people, but I asked for a baby-related dream if I were wrong. I also asked for a dream with Measles in it if she were still alive.

That night I had no dreams pertaining to these things. The next night, last night, I did. I did not dream of Measles, but I did have a baby-related dream. It was weird, though. It wasn’t about me or someone else getting pregnant or having a child. It was about me thinking about how I could never handle childbirth. On top of it all, the dream took place in the second house we had in Longmeadow, and guess who was downstairs while I was upstairs in the dream? You got it. Good old Dureen and Arthur.

Upon waking up, I realized that if God was showing me anything at all, he wasn’t showing me a kid is meant to be. He was reminding me of one of the reasons it’s not meant to be. Makes perfect sense to me.

Tom was telling me earlier, after I asked him what he thought, if he thought my trying to be a singer, if I still wanted that, would interfere with our marriage. He agreed it would probably interfere with our married life since I’d still have to perform in a band somewhat full-time. Not that I could get into a band, though! I’m sure if I did, they’d make some excuse later on as to why they had to disband the band. What happened back east - that was certainly God’s way of saying it definitely wasn’t meant to be! The signs were that obvious.

Anyway, if he can agree that my trying to be a singer would get in the way of our relationship, how can he feel that a child wouldn’t? It’d interfere a million times more.

What I wonder is this - God wouldn’t let me be a singer, God wouldn’t let me be a mother, so will he let me be a doll maker? I hope so, although this one’s quite material in nature, and I don’t feel the need/desire to do it as bad as I once did with the other things.

The Crib didn’t go over very well with me, so now I’m trying Life Penalty.

There goes some desperate soul with its bass pounding away.

Still no freeloaders. Not yet, anyway.

Tom’s working now. You know how they have to work during the daytime on a Saturday at the start of every month, so in he went at 8 AM. He’ll be home around 3:00, then we’re gonna have our cumless weekend screw.

Tom and I were talking earlier about the difference between a resolution, a goal, and a dream. To me, a resolution is something that’s within your control that you hope to change such as quitting smoking, losing weight, or eating better. A goal is something you hope for that’s not unrealistic like hoping to move by June, hoping to get into making/selling dolls. A dream is something you wish for that’s impossible. That’s why they call it a dream when it comes to things like wishing I was tall, and how I used to wish to be a singer and a mom.

My current goal is to be able to have a little more control over my schedule. Maybe not as much control as most have, but still, it’d be nice to be able to keep a schedule most of the time. That way, I’d feel like I had more doors open. I could make plans, for example, to go to Vegas on a particular date that was months away. Now, I can’t do that, cuz I don’t know what the hell my schedule will be months from now. I know, though, that this is just a dream, and I accept it.

Another dream of mine is to be able to sleep with my husband. If he woke me up once or twice a month, that’d be fine, but I wish I could sleep with him most of the time. Again, just a dream, I know it, and I accept it.

My current goals are to move and to get into making/selling dolls.

I don’t really have any resolutions this year. Just to wear my leg weights as often as I can, although I still don’t see how the hell they’re gonna change how my legs look, but I’ll give it six months or so.

I wish I could say that my resolution was to quit eating two bites a day, for the most part, eat normally, and let my middle-aged fat come on, but I’m not ready for that yet. I think forty is a good age to let go and that’s when I probably will. I can’t keep working this hard and dealing with hours and hours of hunger every day for the rest of my life!

Although I’m very watery right now, I ended up waking up at the same thing I woke up at yesterday - 111½. That’s because that hamburger and fries ended up being all I really had. I had some bean soup, a part of a chicken TV dinner, but that was it. I didn’t stuff myself all day.

Later...

I dusted, vacuumed, and changed the mice’s cages. Maybe that’ll help with the tightness I’ve been having. I fucking slaved my ass off, gained weight, and went through hell to quit smoking. Yet half the fucking time, I still feel like I did when I smoked! Thanks, God!

I’m having rotten book luck this time around. Now I’m trying out The Crib and hopefully, it’ll be better.

Will the doctor call me this week? I wonder. And what will happen from here? I know my problem lies within my uterus, I know that guy that did the HSG test played down the severity of my uterus problem, I know I don’t want a kid, I know one’s not meant to be, so am I really that curious to take this any further and see what’ll happen next? Most of me doesn’t think so, but I’m not gonna make any decisions right now.

We were going to go to the store today after he got off work. I need to go to the pet store to get another bottle for the rats and a few other things, but we’re gonna go on Monday instead when it’s less crowded.

Oh, fuck! If there’s anything good about holidays, besides being able to spend more time with Tom, it’s that I get a wonderful break from the fucking non-stop sales calls, but they’re back. Tom said today’s the day they’d start up again, too. Well, he was right. That’s the second call that just came in, so I’m sure there’ll be at least four more.

I ran out of patience with Andy and wrote him a letter expressing my feelings and all that since I’m better with words on paper than I am with words out of my mouth. I know it won’t do me any good. Andy’s a stubborn, selfish person in his own way, who’ll mostly do what he wants to do, but keeping it to myself and holding it in was getting a little tough to do. I basically told him what I’ve said in these journals - that I didn’t think I was making any ridiculous requests or him, nor that many, and how it makes a person think they don’t give a shit when they don’t do what a friend asks of them. Also, I asked these favors from him. I didn’t demand. Once again, if he can’t handle the little things, what about the bigger things? What if we were going away for a week and he was the only one available to feed the animals? Would he really feed them? Or would he just say he would? And of course, I know I can expect him to counter-lecture me and to get all defensive. In the last letter I sent him, he said he was too baked to remember. Why is it that baked or not, I really feel he’ll remember this one since it’ll probably piss him off even if it’s just a little? It’s human nature to remember more of what’s important to us, but I’m starting to wonder if his memory problem is a little more selective than he lets on. He forgets the things he doesn’t care about or care to listen to.

As I told him, though, I wasn’t gonna lecture him in the way that Marla said she did about his staying home and getting baked. If he wants to stay home and get baked, that’s his choice. I’m not gonna tell him how to live his own life. He bitches that he’s such a loser who can’t get ahead in life, yet I never see him really try to move on. Even he admits he doesn’t really try. Therefore, as long as he’s not willing to move on and try his best, he won’t stand a chance of finding a decent job/love and it’ll be his loss. If he does all he can to sober up, get a good job that he keeps, meet better, cleaner people but doesn’t succeed, that’d be different. Then it’d just really not be meant to be for him, but he then would’ve at least tried!

That’s the third sales call. Just three or four more to go!

Starting my writing early this year! Just backed up my stuff and completed my subindex for 1998. Well, the last two months of 1998, anyway.

Tom had to take Mom to the doctor yesterday cuz her feet swelled up. Actually, I think Mary brought her, but he was at the house doing things. She didn’t have to be admitted to the hospital, so that’s good.

I crashed around 3 PM and had Tom get me up at 9:30. That way I could have a half-hour to have coffee and wake up a bit before watching the ball go down in Times Square for the last time. They’re gonna be making a new ball next year. Tom couldn’t get a station covering Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, but MTV was there, so we watched that. It was 10º there!

At 11 PM our time, I went back to bed till 3 AM. I was surprised to have slept past midnight our time since people tend to shoot guns and firecrackers off, but all we heard was a few minutes of Mexican music about a block away just before 10:00.

I don’t understand how after shitting twice yesterday, eating around 1000 calories, not eating for twelve hours, how I could wake up just one pound lighter at 111 pounds, but that’s just my barely moving metabolism for you.

I had massive pre-cramping today and yesterday, but still no spots yet.

I’m now reading On My Honor.

I forgot to mention that Pam’s husband died of a bum liver from alcohol abuse. He asked for it if you ask me.

Andy left a message yesterday and said he was sorry he didn’t acknowledge Ma’s being ill before. That’s nice of him. He also said he was only working at Red Lobster this week. Damn! That’s only a few hours of work! How’s he gonna afford his bills and food, let alone his pot? In Marla’s email to me, she said she was lecturing him about getting a job, rather than staying home and getting wasted. Lecturing him won’t do anyone any good. He doesn’t want to work. He wants to stay home and get stoned.

Marla also sent us a New Year’s greeting card, but I’ll let Tom activate this thing. I don’t want to chance fucking things up.

I typed up a New Year’s card for Tom, as I want to finish off the cards Dureen sent. I even typed up Andy’s birthday card already and typed up about four for Bob.

Here are my predictions for 1999.

We will move this year on approximately June 19th.

The braces will come off this year, both top and bottom (he disagrees with this).

Tom will be at BOA throughout the year.

Tom’s mom will live throughout the year (he disagrees with this).

I don’t see much on doll making, which means it either won’t work out or it’s more towards the year 2000 that it’ll happen. Most likely, it’s still too far away to really see into (he disagrees with this).

Tom may be in a car accident but it could be avoided if he pays attention. If it happens, though, God won’t kill him, thank God! He’ll be OK, save for a few bruises. It’ll be more of an annoyance and a hassle, than anything serious.

I see us having an average two-person income (he disagrees with this).

It will remain just the two of us.

I think we will talk to the doctor who’ll tell me that if I’m fixable, it’ll take major surgery that’ll cost many thousands. Many thousands we don’t really have and that’d stall the move for 2-5 years. So, it won’t be a simple case of hormones or something that I’ll magically outgrow like Tom said. I will refuse any major surgery that may fix me since I do not want a child (he disagrees with this).

The sex will be the usual - on the weekends. We’ll have sex about once a week and he’ll cum 3-4 times this year (he disagrees with this).

I’ll be about 100 pounds on my birthday. I may even reach 100 pounds by this summer (he disagrees with this).

As for my 1998 predictions - I got most of them right, as usual.

I was right when I said he’d still be at BOA, we’d still be here, and his ma would live throughout the year, and I was right about the sex being typical. He came less than I thought he would, though. An all-time low of three squirts for 1998. I sure was wrong about the blacks moving in 1998, but at this point, that’s great. Speaking of them, are they coming back today?

Later...

Tom and I treated ourselves to Jack-n-the-Box. Once again, the hunger was so intense that I just didn’t give a fuck about the weight I’d gain over it. Yeah, I’m pretty watery now too, and am gonna try that chromium picolinate again. It helped curb my hunger before. Now that I have a good diet plan, I’ll see if this will help me stick to it.

New Year’s Day has been a pleasant one, save for a few of society’s desperate using their stereos to cry out their loneliness and ring in the New Year with a little notoriety from the city.

Tom got the rats’ cage up on wheels and man is it tall! It’s just a couple of inches shorter than Tom who’s 5’ 10”. I popped out the shelves, which make up the second, third, and fourth floor, so I could wash them. They were really crapped up with duties and piss! Tom’s gonna put a little Plexiglas around the sides of the shelves and create enough of a base to put sawdust in without them kicking it out. For now, I’ve got them out and they’re all down in the bass on the first floor. It’s plenty big enough even for four rats. I was able to entwine one of the wheels in the side and I stabilized it with bag ties. The bass of the wheel went in between the wires. The other wheel is in the bass along with their burrow and nest, but no one ever really wheels anymore. We’re gonna go out tomorrow to get another water bottle for the top level, and one of those big balls I saw.

I kind of renamed Cutie to Butterscotch with his coloring. He also has one cloudy eye like Piggy did before he died. Is this contagious? Are they all gonna die? God, I hope not! Anyway, Butterscotch doesn’t appear to be in any pain, but we’ll see. Maybe he and the others will be OK.

I asked Tom how he could agree it’ll be just the two of us this year when he’s supposed to believe that what’s wrong with me is minor and that we’ll have a kid. He said because it takes nine months and there are twelve months in a year. Meaning since it’s January, getting fixed and pregnant by March is a wee bit too soon. Well, I hope I’m right about Tom’s subconscious being anti-kid and I hope he’ll always be able to live without one just fine because I absolutely refuse to allow myself to conceive even if God would allow it. I do not want that!

I also don’t want those freeloaders coming back. Not now. It’s too soon. Fortunately, there’s still no sign of them and I hope to hell they come back late on Sunday, but with my luck, they’ll be here prime time tomorrow. Around noon-2:00. If they come back today or tomorrow, though, that would probably mean I’ll have to deal with a three-hour ball game with ten kids participating. I’m gonna have to deal with that shit on MLK Day as it is. I’m sure just about every black ass in the country will make some sort of spectacle of themselves that day. It’s still a miracle that that two-minute ball game those two boys played was all that’s occurred since last - what? April?

Anyway, whenever the hell that bitch does get back, she’ll let me know it. I can only imagine how much door-slamming there’ll be!

Tom’s showing zero desire for sex, but it isn’t the weekend yet.