Yesterday the muscles under my arms and at my sides were sore from push-ups. Today the backs of my thighs are sore.

I ran to the phone yesterday as soon as I heard the long-distance ring to see if it was Paula or Andy calling to tell me stuff that could wait till he got home, but it was Tammy’s number I saw. So I picked up the receiver and put it back as quickly and as gently as I could. The fact that the person didn’t call back told me it was probably Lisa. If you’re gonna call someone collect as she does, you don’t usually try twice in a row. If you’re gonna call a second time, you usually wait a while. If the person called right back, then I’d think it was Tammy cuz she’d probably think it was a faulty connection with the way I quickly would pick up and put the receiver right back down. So all she’d hear was a click. Not someone picking up, then hanging up. I know because I’ve done this with Andy. Sometimes I’d see his number, and I’d pick up and hang up out of annoyance, especially if he’d been calling like hell, but then he’d call right back leaving a message saying the connection didn’t quite make it or that my machine cut him off. The machine part is occasionally true, though. Sometimes our machine really does cut people off.

Still no renters across the street or people next door.

The Mexicans took the old car.

Thank God that hoop is down. Some non-white girl just went by with a smaller girl, bouncing a ball. They’re waiting for the school bus. They let them take balls to school? This girl has gotta be in junior high. Maybe even in high school. Aren’t these little animals getting out of school soon? What’s sad is that we’ll probably still be here when school starts up again in the fall.

Thank God the kids are playing ball in front of the old man’s house, which is like being two houses away since a house could fit in between ours and his. Would I be yelling at them to stop if they were in front of our house? Nah. Not since school is coming to an end and since we shouldn’t be here more than 5 more months. If it were September and if we had no plans to be moved soon, then yes. I’m sure it wouldn’t stop them unless they dropped dead, but it’d feel good to yell at them for it, anyway. But why did they come to the bus stop a whole 20 minutes early? Then again, maybe a bus passes by at 7:00, so they’ll be just 10 minutes early. There are 3-4 buses that pick up kids and drop them off at different times in the mornings and afternoons.

I hope the dream I had was not a warning sign of any kind. I hope it wasn’t a premonition of anything to come. The reason I wondered, though, was because of how I dreamt last December 28th that the freeloaders moved. Then 3 months later that happened. I also dreamt I was in the house after they moved (even though it looked nothing like it does in reality. It was a 4-bedroom, 2-story house with hardwood floors like you’d find back east). Well, after they moved, I was inside the house. However, there’s no way the place will remain empty for 3 more months, so if this dream, or any other one, does hold any clues as to the next people in there, it’s gonna happen sooner than August 19th. More like June 1st.

You’ll find this in my dreams file, but anyway, I dreamt that 5 white kids moved in. When I say “kids” I mean kids between 18-20 years old. They had their music blaring away and I went over there and threatened to have them evicted if they didn’t shut up.

There are two things about this dream that cannot happen. There’s gonna be people under 18 living over there once whoever moves in moves in. Also, they’re not gonna be white. Not unless someone buys it. No matter who’s in there, no matter what color or lifestyle, 3 feet away is just too fucking close, so it’s gonna be noisy either way. If you get owners, you get dogs. If you get renters, you get music.

If the dream I had before this one ends up a reality in any way, then things might not be so bad. This dream consisted of a white man, woman, and boy of about 10, and these people seemed more mature, more stable, and not apt to blast music.

Remember how I said I saw the blue van for a few minutes next door when the city wasn’t there? It could be that instead of the kid going into the house for something, she went in back to get something I threw over there. In fact, it’s doubtful at this point, that she was bringing anything over. I’d think she wouldn’t bring shit over this far in advance.

Tom told me earlier that he knew this was going to make me mad since I get mad when people win things and we don’t, but Dave won a big-screen TV from a drawing they had at work. I’m not mad. I’d be mad if they won a gorgeous doll they didn’t give a shit about that I wanted, but anyway, he and I aren’t destined to win anything big. Also, if he thought it’d make me mad, why’d he tell me? Would he find it amusing to see me mad or jealous? I’ve often wondered about this.

I saw Melanie yesterday and the doctor, too. I asked the doctor how much longer on the braces. As usual, he started off being vague about it, but after a few minutes, he finally answered the goddamn question. He said it’d take 10 months to really get things lined up perfectly, but only two months to tie up loose ends on the things we set out to do that I’ve already pretty much accomplished. So, they’re coming off in 12 weeks! On August 23rd. In 4 weeks I go back for the usual check-up, then again 4 weeks after that, then I get the braces off in another 4 weeks.

Melanie says she doesn’t like her retainer. You don’t have uncomfortable knobs sticking out that you have to wax, but you feel like you’ve got a wad of gum stuck to the roof of your mouth and under your tongue, and you talk funny. So, it sounds like I’ll be swapping in one misery for another. I’ll have to have the retainer for two years. All the time during the first year, then just at night.

I told Melanie how I was bummed she wasn’t around the last time I was in, cuz of the T-shirt I made for her to see. She said I could’ve come and gotten her, but I didn’t want to bother her. She said she liked my “cute little dress” and could notice the weight I’d lost. She told me she goes to the gym after work.

When I got home I printed out a rat picture, a couple of mice pictures, and a few different pictures of myself. One from when I was really skinny and one with my hair just past the shoulders when I was 24. I’ll give this to her the next time I see her.

My hair’s now to the middle of my ass when you don’t pull the curl out, and to the tops of my legs when you do pull it out.

Later...

I wonder how Tom’s back is? Good, I hope, but no matter what happens from here on out, I’ve already resigned myself to accepting and believing that we’ll be here till the fall. Maybe even as late as the end of the year.

I’m enjoying my time off from Andy’s calls, not that he’s been pummeling me with a lot of calls lately, but still, it’s always nice not to hear from him these days. I’m not looking forward to his return, that’s for sure. Cuz then I’ll have to sit on the phone for two fucking hours while he repeats the same old shit over and over again, talking in annoying slow, broken, intermittent-like sentences. I’m sure 80% of what he’ll have to say will be all about food and God. And then because he’ll be baked, he’ll call the next day and the next and leave a million messages about what he spent those two hours telling me about, cuz he can’t fucking remember that he already told me about it! Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh! And who knows how much the little pig will be stuffing his face when we talk. Sometimes I wonder, though, if he conveniently forgets things just to have an excuse to call and tell me something on the machine. God only knows he has no life and not much new ever going on. So, when you have nothing new to tell, you usually go back over old shit.

I hate Andy, man, I’ll tell ya! Well, I don’t hate him, but I’m really sick of him!

I got a kick out of how he said he felt the same way after I told him I felt superior to others. How can a loser like that feel superior? He can’t hold a job. He’s a druggie. He’s loveless. He has immature druggies as friends. His life is exactly as it was a decade ago. He just lives in Phoenix, that’s all. He’s got these grand delusions about God and is totally clueless as to the fact that if his “friend” were really all that wonderful, the world would be a much better place. He wouldn’t always be in such a stagnant rut. Maybe he’d have love, a job he could hold, and a body and brain free of smokes and pot.

I decided to use a similar tactic on Andy as I did on Larry, Doe, and Art’s stuff. Just like I fibbed and told Larry, Doe, and Art that I sent copies to people they know, hoping this would up the chances that they read what I wrote (out of curiosity as to what these people will be reading about them), I put a note on the first page of Andy’s shit that the sentences with the letters fam in them were also shared with his family. See, a druggie has no ambition to do anything but sit on their ass. He never read that journal I wrote for his birthday a few years back. This is different, though, with different circumstances surrounding it, so hopefully, the lazy thing will be curious to read it. Maybe if I pray to Andy’s “friend” and ask that he make sure he reads what I have for him to read, he will, but I certainly won’t count on it, although as Andy claims, God always comes through for him. Yeah, right! Is that why we’ve got a kid? I’m glad we don’t, mind you, but I know he’s prayed for us for that and I know he’s told me that God always comes through for him. Oh yeah? Then why’s he still alone? And I wouldn’t doubt that he’s also prayed for help on quitting the drugs and the ciggies. Maybe for a little stability, ambition, and motivation, too. What a dreamer. A total dreamer. It’s scary when someone can’t separate fantasy from reality.

It’ll be interesting to see whether or not the city comes today. I should think so, but then again, I didn’t think they’d leave the house empty for another week either, not that I’m complaining. I’m pretty sure that house is done and ready to go. It’d be great if they were waiting for the first. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about any scum being over there for Memorial Day, cuz I know that if any freeloaders were over there then, it’d be party, party, party. It’s always the outcasts that have to make a scene.

I can’t believe Andy, who’s supposed to be leaving today, didn’t call all weekend! I guess he’ll call if he doesn’t leave today as planned. For both our sakes, I hope he made it out OK.

It looks like yes, the renters did move. There have been no cars over there for days. Could be that they’re just out of town, but I think they’re gone. I’m not too happy about this cuz, believe it or not, they actually let their dog indoors for the most part, so it was never a problem. However, they’ve got a chain-link fence instead of a block wall, and if there’s a typical outdoor dog over there next time around, it’ll be right at the fence barking its ass off and driving me crazy.

I’m right about Tom - he’s definitely stalling for time. As I’ve said a million times before, he has an obsession with making me wait on him and saying things will happen way before they actually do, if they do at all. Why does everything have to be such a big competition with him? Why does he always have to rebel? Can’t he just do something when he says he’s going to? We filmed, and he took the flag bracket down, but other than that, all he did all weekend was trim the front hedges on Saturday, and pick up the hedges and carry them to the alley on Sunday. I know for damn sure now, that there’s no way we’re moving this summer. Not if he wants to creep around so he can make sure I don’t get my way, so to speak. I’ve been saying we won’t make it out this summer and he loves to prove me right when it’s not in the way I want to be right.

A classic example of how he just has to rebel and go the opposite way of what I want is how all weekend long he never once offered to go down on me. Well, if there’s any subject he’s always been selfish with and not willing to please me with, it’s sex. But why? He’s always resented me sexually and the only reason I can think of as to why is that I never took birth control to begin with and because I used to try to push him into cumming, and for a kid. If I’d only known better from the get-go! Maybe things wouldn’t have been that different anyhow since I’m destined to be hexed sexually, but if I had to start all over again, I’d be on birth control during the so-called childbearing years that don’t even exist for me. Still, it’s sad to see him not care. I’ll be damned if I’ll beg, though. I’m not gonna beg my own husband to go down on me, which my gut feeling’s telling me is what he wants. If he wants to be selfish and only screw me, I can’t change that. I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, and I wouldn’t if I could. It’s too bad, though, that he has to play these games and therefore can’t come out and tell me he doesn’t want to go down on me. It’d be OK if he told me he didn’t want to do something I suggested, whether it was sexual or not. Aren’t people who love each other supposed to be honest with each other? Aren’t we supposed to try to do what the other wants and try to please them as best we can, and speak up when we don’t want to do something the other wants?

I know a good part of his ways are just that - his ways, but there’ll always be a part of me that regrets not starting things off differently since it’s obvious he’ll never get over it and move on. Some of what he said didn’t make sense, though, and I didn’t care to ask him to clarify himself since I know how upset he gets over sex talk. He hates even talking about how the sex went after each session. When he was talking about us getting off on the wrong foot sexually, he said something about him having to do things with me that were practically non-sexual, which I could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn’t happy about, but I have no idea what this means. What things did we have to do that were non-sexual? Does he mean not sleeping together? Well, if that ever did bother him, it doesn’t now. He said it doesn’t matter to him one way or the other if we sleep together. That’s good to know, and I feel the same. As long as we’re together and healthy and happy, we don’t have to share a bed. Just our lives.

We filmed a 5-minute walk-through of the house. We’ll keep a copy, and Paula will get a copy. God, I look like shit, though! Not only do I look 130 pounds or more, but I’m aging like hell! I can’t believe how a person can suddenly age so fast! I still look younger than my age, but also much older. I’ve got droopy jowls, and sagging lip corners. We got a kick out of how I accidentally said this was the N. 21 Dr. house. Even I fuck up our address.

My stomach’s popping back out a bit, and I’m gonna have to figure out a way to work the muscles harder. I can’t feel a burn so much anymore cuz my stomach muscles have built up a bit. I’ll bet I could keep up with some of those advanced abs workouts! I still have a good-sized bulge in between the belly button and the bikini line. I don’t think I can flatten this gut any further than it’s been flattened.

Yesterday, as Tom got up and dressed and ready to go clean the old car out and pick up the brush, he said it was hard getting going at first, but now he likes this prep work and is kind of disappointed to be moving to a new place. Don’t worry, Tom, I told him. God will have plenty of work for him. Things that shouldn’t be breaking so soon will break, and if they don’t, something else will come up. Besides, what about building a workroom or something like that like he said he wanted to?

Shortly after he said he liked the prep work and went out to clear the car out, he came back limping saying he hurt a back muscle. Hell of a timing, too. I mean, it was just quite a coincidence that this had to happen right at the start of the day so we could lose yet another day of prep work. I wondered if he was putting me on just to have an excuse to laze out in front of the TV all day, but he swore he really was hurt and that he’d keep on working no matter how much pain he was in, cuz I didn’t believe him (nice to know he was in a hurry to cum back when I didn’t believe he would). Anyway, I didn’t want him to work if he was in pain, and besides, I already know that we’re not getting out of here anyway till the fall, so what the hell? In fact, we may even be here around Christmas time.

My computer’s been doing weird things, so he installed some kind of crash preventer, but I don’t know how well it’ll work.

Later...

He just called to let me know he’d be late. Yeah, I know. I know he does 12-hour shifts on Sundays and I don’t expect him in till 8:00-9:00. He says his back still hurts.

Better go put the recycle bin out just in case he doesn’t get home in time.

Later...

That Mexican guy really did come back. He came back shortly after Tom crashed. He got up and gave him the title to sign that he finally found, then the guy gave him $50, and said he’ll get it today or tomorrow. Tom said he doesn’t know if the guy believes or understands that the car really is broken. The car could be fixed up and driven for miles, but it’d take time and money.

I hope Tom’s back is better soon enough.

I did that advanced abs video I could never do before, and sure enough, I did every single exercise without a strain or a problem. Tom and I talked about getting a machine to really tone up since there’s only so much you can do lying on a floor. Tom wants it for strengthening his back. This is the second time this has happened to him, and he says he can’t let this happen, even if it’s only every 6 months.

Unbelievably, no one came next door today. What luck, huh?! We’ll be compensated, I’m sure, but oh how I wish that place could just stay vacant till we move! I wish those freeloaders could’ve been our last neighbors! I asked Tom why he thought those people I saw didn’t move in since the place appears to be done, and he said that maybe they could’ve been shown a few houses they had available and this one wasn’t their pick. Maybe, but the waiting list is huge. Why keep the place empty like this? Well, the longer it’s empty, the happier I’ll be.

I had said earlier that I was shocked that Andy didn’t call all weekend, but he did, according to Tom. He just didn’t leave a message. Yeah, he’s taken to calling a lot without leaving messages. Knowing how much he loves to babble, this tells me all the more that he’s doing it just to get attention. Just so I have to hear the phone and check the ID box (if I’m up). It gives him a sense of control, I guess.

Tom got me a couple of packs of fluorescent-colored paper. Each pack has 20 sheets of 10 colors. One pack will finish my journal printing project. If all goes well, I should have 5 sheets left over from the first pack.

I’m back from 112 pounds to 108 pounds, but there’d still be a big difference for the better if I could just get down right around 100 pounds, but I won’t count on it.

Yesterday, Tom trimmed the front hedges. That’s all he did. I’m telling you, we’re not gonna make it out of here in July or August at the slow rate he’s going. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what he wants. He seems to be obsessed with procrastinating, as well as with being different. Being a disorganized slob is one of his obsessions too, and I got really mad at this favorite pastime of his yesterday. Two Mexicans came to our door wanting to take the old car to Mexico and fix it up. They were gonna give us $50 to tow it, but the slob couldn’t find the title. The guys say they’ll return on Tuesday.

I’m sending a birthday card/letter to Becky. This is gonna sound cruel and selfish, I know, but mainly it’s to keep Tammy from calling. I’m sure that if I didn’t call or send Becky anything, Tammy would call bitching about it (like she’d ever have sent our kid anything if we had had one, right!). Who knows, though? She may call bitching about my only sending something and not calling. If she does, that’s her problem. She’s not gonna get the reaction she wants out of me, that’s for sure. We should be moved by Sarah’s birthday (I hope!). Then, a year from now, Tammy will hear from me one last time before I snip the strings for the final time and cut her loose. But as soon as we move, the bitch, the folks, the brother, and the pest will get their last word from me. Tammy will get a bullshit letter saying we had twins by way of in vitro, live in a 5-bedroom house on a 3.3-acre lot, and that I make/sell porcelain dolls. Half of this stuff may be true too, but just knowing how furious the so-called twins part of it will make her and the folks really cracks me up. Then, I shall get on with my life in peace.

It’s pretty funny how my interests have really changed throughout the time I’ve known Tom. Besides him, other people I know, the animals in general, reading, writing, singing, and listening to music, if you look at the different time frames, different words pop out at you as you skim through the pages. The common words in the beginning, are sex, pregnant, and baby. Then it changes to bitch, bass, and basketball. Lastly, to dolls, moving, and rats.

I don’t know if this would be easier said than done, but if I were to end up pregnant now that I don’t want a child (even though that’s impossible) I wouldn’t abort it, but it’d get no prenatal care, I’d stop my vitamins, eat really shitty, and pray to God to lose it for me.

It’s a pretty noisy one out there now as I prepare to write. Yes, even in the middle of the night it can be noisy around here, even though it’s been great overall as far as kids and music go. The collies are back to barking even throughout the night. For a while, they had given me peace at night. Usually, they go off just to go off, but not tonight. Tonight there was a whole carload of old ladies that pulled up in front of the music people’s house, as I still call it, laughing and acting like a bunch of college kids. Tonight was also a classic example of what I mean when I say that these dogs are extreme barkers. There are at least three dogs that I’ve heard of that live in yards across the street within about a 6-house span. They weren’t going off. Only the collies had to go off. And they kept on going long after the old ladies pulled away. Yeah, I think those sick, inconsiderate fucks ought to receive a letter from me too, after we move, but I’ll act like I still live around here. What I still don’t get is how can they sleep??? How can even the soundest of sleepers sleep throughout all that loud barking that’s so close to their beds?

My vibes say no one’s moving in this weekend next door, although I dreamt that some white folks moved in there. That’s not gonna happen.

Tom’s at work for a few hours tonight, believe it or not. As I’ve told him, there’ll always be something new or out of the ordinary going on at that bank where he’ll have to work overtime or during his usual time off. He says new people are going to be hired, but that won’t make a difference. If God’s gonna let him have more free time, that probably won’t be till he retires. Maybe he’ll let him have a little after we move, knowing we could use him around here a little more now, but God’s not entirely against us with the move. Not so far, anyway. My credit report came back and it’s clean! As Tom said, that could’ve been a serious obstacle for us.

If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a million times - God, don’t ever let me dream a non-material dream again! If I do, though, since that’s not something we can usually control, at least I’ve learned through time/experience not to do anything about trying to obtain the dream. Why exhaust and frustrate myself struggling for the impossible, when I could be living and enjoying the possible? I don’t enjoy all the possible things. No one does. But you know what I mean.

I asked him if his ma had any plans to help us move or give us money before she dies since she has about a year left, give or take a couple of months. 

No. Of course, not. I should’ve known better than to ask. He said she was afraid to give any money out before dying for fear of people deserting her. My first response was oh, poor poor Marge, but then Tom pointed out that we all can’t help our fears (like my fear of spiders). Anyway, I still have mixed feelings about her. She’s helped us in several ways, but sometimes, it just seems like she doesn’t help us where it really counts. That’s great that she bought Tom his contact lenses, but the cost of that is nothing compared to the cost of moving. And again, I still resent all the money and time we lost together. We were just newlyweds at the time and I needed him home with me. Now that we’ve been together this long, I still love him as much and want to be with him as much, but it doesn’t hurt so much to have him tied up. As far as the sexual end of it, things have never been the same since quitting smoking, even if the sex still is satisfactory and fulfilling enough. Ever since I quit smoking I really extinguished a big part of my sex drive along with the cigarettes. Just like I almost went back to smoking cuz of my weight, I almost went back to smoking to up my drive again, but then I said, nah. There’s no point in upping a drive that can’t be taken care of. We don’t have time for sex more than once a week and I don’t think my crotch would appreciate that very much at all. At least I don’t have to fear pregnancy and go through the hassles of birth control. It’s great to know he can cum all he wants to and not worry that it could make a kid. And it’s great to know I’m not pregnant cuz I chose not to be, regardless of the fact that that’s just part of my destiny anyway. Destiny or not, I chose not to be a mother so we could move and live life together. I may not be a doll maker after all, but at least I can collect. I may only be able to get the dolls I really like once every 5 years, but I can still get them, and other dolls.

So, to sum it up, my vibes aren’t certain as to what he’ll be doing when we move, I’ll probably be doing what I’ve always done since knowing Tom, and the health and sex will probably stay the same. That’s good on the sex part, cuz usually, if sex changes after 5 years of marriage, it isn’t for the better. It doesn’t get any better than this, which is plenty good enough, but I’d hate to ever see him bored with me. I’m sure he won’t be, though. If he were gonna bored out on me, he’d have done it by now. We’ve fallen into a comfortable routine.

I’m glad he met Dureen and Art, if only for that one time. That way he could really see what I mean as to their characters/personalities. It’s one thing for him to go by my hearsay, but another to see for himself what I meant. They didn’t do/say all they’re capable of doing/saying when they were here, thank God, but he too, is good with people’s characters and could see the positive/negative/abusive traits lurking underneath.

Can you believe a black ink cartridge costs $25 and a color one costs $29?! But why? It’s just ink, for Christ’s sake. So, although it’s a one-time deal and is well worth it, printing my journals out will end up being a $300-$400 project. Tom said we ought to get me a laserjet printer. It only prints in black, but you can print thousands of pages for about $80 or so.

Later...

I’m doing laundry now. Just changed the sheets, too.

Melanie called yesterday to remind me of my Monday appointment. I asked if I was still her patient and she said I was. I have mixed emotions about that, too. Mel’s faster and prettier, but rougher. At least it doesn’t matter as much now that my teeth are where they’re at. It’s not gonna be as painful, anyway.

Tom looked in that area where the houses were on acre lots. He said he couldn’t find the house that was advertised, but that the area sucked anyway. He said it was old farmland being converted into a development. Just dirt. No natural desert landscape like we want. He said everything was in clumps, too. You’d have a house with nothing around it for miles, then a cluster of trailers. Yeah, Arizona seems to be hung up on clumps. You either have a lot of people or no one around for miles.

Also, another problem with the area was that there was a prison nearby.

Last night, out of curiosity, I browsed through the national white pages online and came across Michael M’s name. He moved from Hamden to Longmeadow, so I see. Mike was the closest I ever came to having a crush on a guy before meeting Tom. This was when I was in the real high school when I was a freshman. He was my chorus teacher. Anyway, he ended up marrying another student. I last spoke to him somewhere between 1989-1991. They were trying to have kids, but his wife Daryl had just had a miscarriage. By now I’m sure they have a family. I wrote a half-sane, half-wacky letter. I put my return address on only cuz I know I don’t have to worry about him writing me back, which I’d prefer he not do. He’s in the past. I just wanted to surprise him, that’s all. I stuck in a few pictures of myself from when I looked my best in the mid-90s that I scanned and printed out. That ought to shock him too, since I did not look like that the last time I saw him. If I remember right, I last saw him in 1984 at 130-something pounds.

I’d bet my dolls on Andy’s calling this weekend. He’ll use his trip as an excuse, but that’s OK. Of course, I don’t even know for sure that Andy will be leaving Monday as he says. You know Andy - always gotta be late on things and make big deals of things.

Later...

I’m gonna start sleeping with a notebook by my bed so I can make notes of my dreams upon waking till I get around to typing them up. The longer I’m up, the more I forget my dreams.

Did the renters move after all? There have been no cars over there.

We screwed a little while ago and I made the dumb mistake of not using lubricant. I was so dry. I really need to use it all the time, even if it is a hassle. Besides, it’s a great spermicide cuz sperm can’t swim through its thick stickiness.

As I figured too, he did nothing about going down on me. The sex was the usual - too much time on the side, then too little time up top. He never wanted to please me. Never. All he wanted to do was play games, then please himself after the years of my bitching about his games finally got to him. Oh well. It’s only sex.

Still printing journals like crazy. Got 670 more pages to go and about 32 more journals. In one box I'll have the journals from Oswego Street, Woodside Terrace, Elm Street, Norwich, the Vista and Crystal apartments, and this house.

As you'll see in my Dreams file, I had a dream including Jackie and Jim. Speaking of them, isn't Jackie pregnant yet? She's God's "perfect" mommy. I asked Tom, who answered that he hadn't seen them, in a very annoyed tone of voice. You can't even talk to him about someone else getting pregnant without him getting all riled up. Don't worry, hun. I don't plan to ever bring up the subject again. Not even if I wanted a kid all over again tomorrow. I know better. I know when something's not meant to be and when something shouldn't be, since not all of us can handle these things. Anyway, I asked him, cuz of the way I know his ma talks about other family members. However, unless something big was going on with someone, all she ever did when I'd visit her was talk about Nickolena. Then about Nickolena and Parker. It got old! It really did. That's another reason, besides the fact that I resent her for her selfishness, that I don't want her over the new house. I don't want to have to sit and listen to nothing but talk about those kids the whole time she's with us.

I can't believe no one's been next door all week. Not that I'm complaining, but what are they waiting for?

It’s after 1:00, yet the fucking dogs are going off. They just go on and on. There’s no end to their shit! Never have I ever heard of dogs that bark this much. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I just hope to hell they’re not taking one of their fits when we go to show the house, even though the next people in here will probably have a dog of their own going off in their yard. But none can go off that much and that’s my point.

I spoke to Paula yesterday morning. God, what a hypochondriac! She’s not just a ditz, she’s like Tammy; always with a problem. Now it’s her heart she says is acting up, but I think it’s anxiety. She’s naturally anxious as it is, and this shit of a married whore of a guy she’s dealing with isn’t helping.

Anyway, her birthday is the 31st of this month, so I think I’ll bead her up some necklaces. Also, we want to videotape this house before and after we paint, to add to our home videos, and I’ll mail her a copy at some point. Then she can also see how long my hair is and how fat I still am.

I had to put the bitch’s stuff back in two envelopes. I forgot that you can’t mail anything over 16 oz. without bringing it to a post office (in case of bombs). He’s too damn paranoid to bring it to a post office without a legit return address on it in case he runs into someone he knows. What? He can’t say he’s mailing it for a friend? Damn, he’s paranoid! I think he’s paranoid but is also using this as an excuse to avoid the post office. After all, you do have to wait in line forever there.

I was right. He never offered to go down on me or to screw, yet there was plenty of time for a guy who claims to be horny so much. I have such mixed feelings about it, too. It hurts to see him not take opportunities for more sex and it makes me feel a bit rejected, but it’s also great at the same time, cuz I’m sick of sex with him. I can do a way better job myself and I’d just as well get it over with quickly myself, than have these long drawn out boring sessions with him. I know that a big part of his not initiating much sex is fear of making a kid, but is there more to it? He says I’m beautiful, but unless he has a rather unique idea of beautiful, I’m not beautiful. I’m chunky, I’m aging, and I look like a geek.

Later...

That bites. You mean I can’t print in black ink just because my color ink cartridge is dead? Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to do any more printing.

Andy called and left an 888 number (toll-free) for me to call to win $50,000 for having the best laugh. He said if I won, I could give him $1,000 of the money for referring me to this number. First off, I knew no God would let me win $50,000. It’s just not in our cards, and besides, we could use the money. People who win money tend to not need it much. Secondly, I knew there’d be a catch. The catch was, that as soon as you dial in, a recording comes on saying, “Sorry, only one call per household, but be sure to look for other Pillsbury promotions.”

Later...

I called Andy and we spoke for the better part of an hour. He’s leaving Monday, I hope, for both our sakes. This time around, I just may surprise him by sending a letter to his brother’s house in Springfield. The one he grew up in. When Judy and Al moved into condos, they gave the house to Gary. I remember the address, but not the zip so I’ll just leave it zipless.

I was right, he has no plans to work full-time when he gets back, so he told me. He works 5 days a week, 4 hours a day, and it works out well for him, he says, cuz he always feels like he needs the time off. Whatever works for him.

He said he’s gone from weighing 152 down to 146 cuz he’s been puking like hell. No wonder he’s eating like a pig if he’s losing everything he eats. Then again, it may be the overeating that’s upsetting his stomach. He says it’s the cigarettes, though. I thought he said it was nerves the last time we discussed this. He says he’s been tired a lot cuz of the weed. Too much food can tire a body out too, I’ve heard. In fact, he says he eats so much that he’s tired of washing all the zillions of dishes he uses, so he went out and got plastic dishes/silverware. Well, if he’s happy eating whatever amount he eats, and if he’s happy weighing whatever he weighs - great.

He paid Michelle $100 to stay at his house while he’s gone. Good. I’m glad he’s got someone to feed his cat and to tape his soaps. Michelle’s happy about it, according to him, cuz her mother yells at her all the time. She lives with her mother and her mother’s boyfriend, I guess.

There goes those fucking dogs again. They usually have the decency to wait till 5:00 or 6:00 before they start going off, but not this morning. They usually shut up around 9:00 or 10:00 at night too, so something must’ve been going on to get them going, but I don’t know. I think these dogs just like to go off. Period. I hope the next batch of trash to go next door is like that bitch and her associates were - real noise lovers.

Did he bring up God? Of course. He not only brought up God, but now he’s bringing the angels into his conversation, too. He was saying that he feels God and the angels kept that guy from breaking in that other morning at 4:00 AM. Could be. I asked him if he thought it was connected to Laura. He said no. He said if she was gonna send someone to break in, she’d have them come at 7:00 AM when she knew he was asleep. Even that’s stupid. If you’re gonna break into a house, do it when it’s empty and there are no potential witnesses. Anyway, I still think he gives way too much credit to God. I mean, come on! What fantastic thing has God ever done for him, huh? He has a right to believe what he believes and I don’t try to influence his beliefs one way or another, but still, who does he think he’s fooling?

Later...

Andy, you are one big pain in the fucking, motherfucking, goddamn ass! He asked me to tape a couple of saved messages of his. I wasn’t going to, but then I decided I would, just in case he asked me for the tape before we move. What a pain! I thought the living room phone would work OK, but it didn’t, so I had to fumble with getting the back room phone set up, and good God! I won’t mention leaving a few mad bogus claims on his tape in his file I’ll have for him when we move. I yelled at him about sending Michelle over to play a childish prank on me, and of course, he’ll be racking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck I’m talking about. Remember, these are supposed to be messages I left him that he saved. He’ll probably believe it’s real too, but that he just can’t remember it being the pothead that he is.

I wonder more and more just how much of my dream will come true. My dream is to move to an empty piece of land that’s more than an acre big, to put that last model we saw on it, and get all the furniture and other stuff we want for the new place pretty much right away. Why do I feel, though, that we’ll end up in some kind of development, although he says it’s unlikely, with just an acre and a house that’s already there and not be able to get all the stuff we want right away? Maybe the acre will be big enough depending on what’s around it (although that seems unlikely) and maybe the house will be as big and as nice as that last model and maybe we’ll have to slowly get the stuff we want over time, but if I do have to settle, it won’t be the first time, will it, God? Even so, any place will be better than here with people just a few feet away (when the house is occupied like it normally is) and with barking dogs that are barely 50 feet away.

I created a Dreams file. I decided to write down whatever dreams I remember. Real dreams, that is. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams, but lately, I’ve been remembering a lot of weird dreams that I thought would be cool to document.

Got to get Tom up in 20 minutes. He has to go in at 12:30. Sometimes I get him up at 11:00, but he left me a message saying to get him up at 10:00 since he's caught up on his sleep. I don't expect him to take my suggestion and offer to go down on me, so I used the vibrator to get off a little while ago. I guess he just wants an extra hour of TV. Or maybe to play computer games.

He said he called a realtor about some land advertised that's supposed to have a manufactured house already on its property. He said it was a little further out than he'd like, and only one acre, but perhaps we could still check it out some time.

I picked out the best interior colors from those color strips he brought home, but he needs to try again with the blues. The house is way lighter than even the lightest blue he brought home.

Tom bought a heavy-duty stapler today but it was broken, so he’ll have to bring it back. He got staples in four different sizes, although they come in six sizes. You can staple up to 250 sheets. He also picked up some more ink cartridges. I’ve been on a major printing spree what with getting these journals printed out. I have 1170 more pages to go of journal stuff and that’s not counting what I’ve written so far for this month.

His little computer is really neat. You can lay in bed in the dark and use it cuz the screen lights up to a pretty blue/green shade, the color of pool water lit up at night. It has a tiles game. Its colors are bland, but it’s still neat to just tap the tiles with the stylus. It’d be perfect for long boring car rides to Vegas, Laughlin, California, or wherever.

To our knowledge, no one came next door today (now yesterday). Not even the city. I asked Tom what’s his guess now, as to when someone will move in. He said he’d guess every weekend. Me too, but the longer it stays empty, the better. Every weekend it stays empty is just one less weekend I have to deal with someone’s rude, selfish shit just three feet away from me. It’s no wonder I didn’t have a bad vibe and a vibe of waking up last weekend. Cuz no one moved in after all. I guess that as we approach each weekend, I’ll be able to get a sense of whether or not someone will be moving in. So far, I seem to be in tune as far as that goes.

Mickey Rat may have a tumor in his balls. His balls are ten times bigger than the other rats, as even Tom noticed. He said he thought the tumor might be in his stomach, pushing his balls out. I don’t know if it’s his stomach, his balls, or nothing at all. Time will tell, but God’s really damned mice and rats, that’s for sure! They’re notorious for tumors, alright.

We had sex earlier which couldn’t have been any more predictable than it was. It was sooo obvious, although like always, he tried to deny his reasons for his moves. He not only didn’t cum, he wouldn’t even get on top. He was that scared, but hey, it’s OK. Perfectly understandable, and I’d probably do the same myself if I were him despite the odds of my conceiving. We’re in the middle of trying to move, after all. We don’t need another expense and time-eater.

Anyway, the cumless weekly sex is fine, but I wish he’d be less sexually selfish. All he’s ever really cared about in bed is doing what he’s wanted. He decides when we have sex and how often (even though we sort of have a mutual agreement. A pattern/habit we’ve fallen into with time). He decides when he cums. He decides the positions. I wish he didn’t have so much control in bed, but a man always has more control over the bedroom activities. We women just don’t have the tools to be in command of the sex. So, he’s typical in that way. He dominates the sex, only in an unusual kind of way. Definitely not in the way most males do. Nonetheless, he never offers to go down on me. His “variety,” is not going on top sometimes cuz he’s either too afraid to, can’t get in the mood, or whatever. It’d be nice if he’d please me every now and then. Only in the beginning was the sex just for me, but then again, it wasn’t. If it can’t be mutual, OK, but we should share the pleasure, if you know what I mean. I made this suggestion to him, but I won’t count on his taking it up. Perhaps he will once or twice, but then he’ll just fall right back into his usual ways. I don’t know if he’s being stubborn deliberately, or if he really has such a hard time adapting to new ideas in bed, but we’ll see. I guess most of us find a way that works best for us and stick to it.

Got 1121 more pages to print out. I combined all the journal files into one file for printing. I have to print out from late 1995 on up till last June. Then carry on with printing out each month I type. Guess you could say I’m off to a slow start this month. It’s already the 11th, yet I haven’t even typed ten pages yet. Usually, around the 11th, I’m around the twenty-page marker.

I was gonna get into shit about Andy and his “family lecture” but I’ll save it for another time. I’ve been up a while and I want to unwind with a movie.

Later...

Today Tom brought home a T-shirt squashed into a circle of about 5” in diameter. I don’t know where he got this. I’ll have to ask him when I get him up at 11:00. He was already asleep when I got up at 4:00.

He also brought home sample paint shades. About a dozen whites, yellows, and blues. We’re going to paint the outside the same light blue, but hopefully, we can just paint the bad spots and avoid having to paint the whole house. We’re gonna paint the trim white. Right now it’s also light blue. We’ll be painting the inside walls white. A brighter white than the off-white that’s been on these walls. We’ll be painting the kitchen cabinets a yellow-gold to go with the disgusting floor in there.

Lastly, he got a heavy-duty stapler that works and it’s great. It still jammed up on me a few times like my regular one did, but it’s much better since I can staple so many more pages. It took just 9 staples to staple together my first 100 journals. I’ll be able to get all of Andy’s shit stapled with one staple, and I rearranged the bitch’s shit, too. Originally, she was gonna receive two envelopes from me, but I managed to fit everything into one envelope. I tore out the wire binders and it’s now packed beautifully with just two staples. The bitch has roughly 160 pages, 80 sheets of paper. I stapled 40 and 40, so she’ll get two little bundles of paper. That way she can have fun sharing. Her cock can read one while she reads the other. I set it up so that the first thing she sees when she pulls the packet out will be the pictures I shot of the city car and of her cock’s car. I wrote my “table of contents” on the back of the envelope to help up her curiosity.

Again, as far as I know, no one showed up next door today.

Got 996 pages left to print.

As far as Andy’s concerned - same old, same old. He left messages about eating, being excited about going back east, and weed sales. Then, in response to my asking him to please not bother contacting Tammy, he said he wasn’t planning on it anyway (yeah, well we’ll see if that changes). Then he lectured me about cutting off my nieces just because of my problems with Tammy. Although I’ve cut off everyone with the last names G and O cuz I felt that that was for the best, I told him differently (that I didn’t dump my nieces) just to shut him up and get him off my case. Anyway, he has no right to judge me and my situation because he’s not in my shoes. If he had been in my shoes and could feel how I do, then maybe he’d understand why I not only had to cut out Tammy but her kids, too. The connection was just too damn close for comfort.

Anyway, I’m sick of Andy trying to make me into himself. Just because he’d go against Marla’s wishes and be his usual selfish self doing only what he wants if she told him to stay away from the boys, well, that’s him. Not me. The best way for him to handle a certain situation isn’t necessarily the best way for others but he just doesn’t get it. He puts everyone on his level, but that’s just not reality. He’s him. I’m me. I’m tired of my “friend” siding with others and arguing and challenging my ways. I’m sick of him trying to push his ways on me. I don’t try to talk him out of his ways of doing things. I may tell him, for example, that I don’t agree with his being a drug dealer, but I never tried to talk him out of it. It’s his fucking life. Why can’t I get the same respect in return? I expect others to treat me as I treat them.

He said he should bring his friend God into his lecture, but he wouldn’t. 

What “friend?” You mean the “friend” that’s denied him love? The “friend” that’s helped to keep him in the same old loser of a rut year after year? That’s some friend, Andy. I could type 1000 pages on why God’s some “friend,” but I have better things to do with my time.

I’m sick of Andy! Oh, I’m fucking sick of him! Sooooooooo motherfucking sick of him! I’m tired of hearing the same old shit message after message, phone call after phone call. Fuck his fucking God, and his fucking food, and his fucking drugs, and his fucking phones, and his fucking Stevie. I’m fed up! I can’t fucking wait to move and get on with my life without his usual BS I’ve dealt with for what? 11 years now?

Boy, it sure felt good to bitch in here!

Paula left a message earlier. A weird one too, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day. Now why would someone wish a childless person a happy Mother’s Day?

No messages from Andy. He knows. Somehow, he knows. Tom wouldn’t tip him off and tell him I’m planning on disappearing on him, so he’s got to sense something. For a few days in a row he did get a little message happy on me, but other than that, he’s really backed off since I made up my mind to do my disappearing act. Am I reconsidering not disappearing? No. Even if he hardly called me for the rest of my life, he’s not a true friend in my opinion and I don’t want to push my luck by being in his car with him and his pot, and besides, we’re just not on the same level in life. I still feel I’ve outgrown him and that neither of us has anything to offer the other (except for the favors I do for him and the things I give him every now and then). I’m not perfect myself, but I don’t want a druggie for a friend, who tends to be selfish, and that’s that.

Andy once said he felt he had two destinies - to lead me out here and to deal with Quinn. So I guess that proves our time as friends really is up. We’ve done what God wanted us to do for each other. He led me out here, and I did whatever I was supposed to have done for him, but it was to teach him to stand up to bullies, etc.

Tom rested a lot during the weekend to get over cold number 394 since I’ve known him, and yesterday, I was a bit out of it myself. Had a doozy of an allergy attack, which was my own dumb fault. I shouldn’t have gone outside. During the two transition periods where it’s just about to go over the 100º marker, then just under it is a rotten time for allergies. This time, instead of the Benadryl just drying up my mouth and putting me to sleep, it dried up my mouth but didn’t put me to sleep. It also helped with the sneezing this time, too. I was very groggy, though, and couldn’t do much but read and listen to music. I finished a book yesterday and began Toys in the Attic.

At 10:45 Saturday night, someone rang our doorbell. They only rang once, but we didn’t answer it. It was probably some potential fuck buddy given the wrong address by a girl in a bar that promised to screw him at her house. It could’ve been anyone, though. Who knows?

I looked online for doll kits, but then I decided to wait till we moved.

Tom did more work on packing shit in the back room, and so he says, this week we’re gonna begin painting in here.

This month, I didn’t get those UT pains, so that’s fine with me!

I am amazed at how much of a difference the stomach exercises have made since I figured out how to do them more effectively. Don’t get me wrong. My stomach’s still big. I’m big. I could afford to lose 10-15 pounds, but what a difference! The face exercises are a different story. They’re completely useless unless I’m not doing them correctly.

Unbelievable! Just un-fucking-believable! No one moved in today! That explains why I didn't have a vibe saying I'd be losing sleep. Of course, they can always move in between now and sundown, or tomorrow, but I don't know about that. I mentioned to the city that we were looking to move this summer. Wouldn't it be funny if they were waiting for us to move out first? Fat chance, though. Last night I was pretty stressed out, even though I didn't feel them on their way in. The NHA's really scarred me for life, boy I'll tell you.

The kids are definitely, definitely coming this weekend (they quit working there early and the yard’s now empty). And so is their dog. If they can have a van like they’ve got, they can have a dog, too. I may end up with a dog in place of bass but I’m sure these young things will be into those killer stereos. Like I said, it’s not so much the pregnant child welfare bum I’m concerned about. I haven’t heard her bass in yet. It’s her cronies I’m worried about. She’ll be home all day, and so her associates, who will be just as lazy and as jobless, will be banging in and out several times a day with their millions of screaming kids.

Mormons, blacks, Mexican, people!! I’m just so sick of them all!! I’m also really sick and tired of living next to children, even if some of them are supposed to be adults. If I never live near anyone under 40 again, it’ll be too soon.

Speaking of adult children, I think the renters across the street moved. Last night at 8:00 I saw about five people over there loading a pickup. The lawn was littered with furniture. Guess they’re skipping out on the rent. Tom said he doesn’t think they’re moving. He thinks someone moved in or out, and that it’s several people sharing the rent. Like college kids do. Well, we’ll see. So far, since being up since 2:00, I see nothing but a lounge chair leaning up against their carport. I’ll do an hourly check. How I love to spy!

I just thank God we’re moving soon. Knowing that really takes some of the stress off of me. Again, we talked about our different options. There’s still a chance we may find a prepped piece of land with a house already on it, move into that, then have the manufactured house we want hauled in later on.

Paula and I have been playing phone tag for nearly a week now. I called and got the neighbor that lives up above her. I told her to tell Paula I’d try again next week.

Andy left me a message today, all excited about his trip back east. He’ll be gone from 5/15 to 6/3 unless anything changes.

I left Andy a message asking him to please, as my friend, don’t bother calling Tammy. I explained to him yet again that we’re not in touch with each other and why and also reminded him that he doesn’t need Tammy’s rudeness. Every time they’ve talked or visited, even if she doesn’t directly say something mean to him, it’s in her tone of voice. She’s an insecure person who’s uncomfortable around gays, she can’t let go of the past and has to rehash shit that went down between Doe, Art, Judy, and Al, and he doesn’t need it. He’s gonna be hurt enough by people in his lifetime, including by me when I disappear on him (then again, who knows? Maybe he won’t be hurt since we don’t have much in common these days). He either respects my wishes, or he doesn’t, but till I see differently, I’ll assume he’ll suit himself. He always does and even he admits that. Or maybe he’ll just argue with me about it by leaving a message challenging my reasons for wanting him not to contact her, but will still respect my wishes. We’ll see.

In his message to me, he said just hearing my voice for a few seconds is good enough so I don’t have to leave him 3-4 messages. Yeah, right! He wishes! I haven’t left him that many messages in one day for years, but that’s Andy for you. If you tell him or imply that he’s doing A, he’ll tell you or imply you’re doing A, B, and C. He’ll tell you or imply that you’re doing more of or worse than he is. If I bitch at him for leaving five messages, he’ll bitch at me for leaving ten, even if I didn’t leave him one.

Later...

It looks like Tom was right. The renters are still here. I’m glad, to tell you the truth, so I won’t have to worry about anything worse going in over there, and I wish those blacks had just stayed put! I should be crawling with horrible vibes right now, but for some reason, I’m not. I should be, though, cuz there’s no way in hell God would let me have a quiet neighbor and there’s no reason to think that a pile of freeloaders could be quiet. And again, I know how these welfare bums are. Remember Oswego Street? I do. And I know that right along with the blacks, they’re nothing but noisy scum who only give a damn about themselves. These things are gonna be worse. Mexican music may have less bass than rap music, but anything played on these particular stereos is loaded with bass cuz that’s the whole idea. Also, at least the black bitch worked during the week, but not this one! This one’s gonna have more company and more kids that’ll make the bitch look almost like a childless loner. And the dog! Oh God! Why? Why me?!

We had a quickie a little while ago. We agreed it’d just be a quick thing to break me open after having to skip a week. Sure enough, I had that familiar irritation. I’m sick of this irritation I get on and off! Why do I even bother screwing? It’s old and boring (most of the time) and so is the irritation.

Not much to write about this time around. Just that Tom picked me up new cartridges and paper, and that I’ve been printing journals like crazy.

Also, that white Ford that looks like our car was in the driveway next door. The city van came and went too, and there was also some other older white car that was parked on the street for a good ten minutes or so today. Tom said they may’ve been painting. They were doing something inside, cuz they had the front door wide open. I could see through the living room window, through the door, and out to the next side street a block away that crosses our street.

I took another peek in back after they left and saw the toilet was still there, among a few other things. There’s a chance, after all, although I won’t swear to it, that our welfare bums just may not make it in this weekend for sure, and that’d go with my vibe. Logic told me that they were moving in this weekend and that I wouldn’t get any sleep, since moving does make some noise and they’re just a few feet away from where I sleep, but my vibes don’t sense a lack of sleep to come. When they leave tomorrow, though, I’ll be able to tell where we stand as far as next door goes.

Tom treated himself to a new handheld computer that you write on with a stylus and it turns what you write into print. It’s pretty neat, and he’s been overdue on treating himself.

Not shitting yesterday cost me two pounds, but even so, my stomach is definitely flatter since figuring out how to do the crunches more effectively.

Back to the daily calls from Andy. He’s calling right now.

The city was next door when I got up at 1:00, and they still are. There’s also a city truck in the street with a big pickup in back. I assume this is what they’ll use to haul the brush away.

My schedule sucks. These kids are gonna be moving in this weekend without a doubt, and I’m not gonna get a damn bit of sleep.

Tom says the electricity has been on since we saw that APS truck about a week ago. They haven’t replaced that obnoxious security bulb, fortunately. He says he doubts they will. Maybe not, but the kids will once they get there.

This is the second day I got a private call with no message. It could be a business, but it could also be Andy just wanting to call just so I have to hear the phone ring and get up to check the caller ID box.

Tom said we could move in a snap if we absolutely had to. He said that he checked a little further out of town than he’s checked so far, and they have tons of big/new manufactured homes on three or more acre lots for dirt cheap. He said we could move as soon as we got an offer on this house. Well, however we move, I just hope it’s soon enough and that we don’t have to really get into settling, but settling’s my life’s theme and what I do best. If I have to settle for a 3 bedroom, that’s better than nothing. Even having this same exact house out in the open desert is a million times better than this house in the crowded, polluted city with assholes just three feet away.

Later...

I peeked over the wall after the city left. I saw a toilet and a chair on the back patio. Other than that, there didn’t seem to be too much more out there, so there’s no doubt in my mind that the welfare trash will be moving in this weekend.

Just thought I’d do some writing while I print out journal stuff.

I was telling Tom how I got a feeling I could sculpt. A similar feeling I got telling me I could draw ten years or so ago. Tom thinks I could sculpt, but I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine me sculpting, but after I saw a video, which I’ll get into later, I don’t think I’ll ever want to sculpt or pour molds.

Yesterday, we went and got Tom’s 6-month supply of disposable contacts, then to the spit doctor. There were no wild kids in the waiting room and there was very little waiting time. The doctor came and got me himself, and allowed Tom to join us. The doctor seemed a bit gruff, but he wasted no time, got right to the point, and knew what he was doing. It only took him a minute to clean the wax out of my ear and it wasn’t painful. Not even uncomfortable.

Then, I went down the hall a bit for a hearing test. Their soundproof booth wasn’t very soundproof cuz I could hear voices, but Tom said that they were coming through the headphones. I guess that’s because the lady who was doing the test on me was sitting right near the receptionist. I still got the same results I’ve always gotten on my right ear (goes to prove years of blasting headphones do not cause hearing to get worse and worse with time) and the same results I’ve gotten on the left ear since the canal was made. The right ear’s still within normal hearing range and the left ear sucks. The doctor said the higher the number, the better the hearing. The right ear got an 8, the left got a 53. As always, the right ear’s only problem was with this one certain frequency. Higher pitches within the 4000 MHz.

The doctor told me of my options; to have another operation to try to equalize my hearing by some doctor in L.A., or better yet, to get a hearing aid. The hearing aid costs one to three G’s, and is a waste of money, in my opinion, on someone who hears plenty well enough. Just wait till the pregnant kid and her associates move in! You’ll see how well I hear then! Also, I certainly don’t want another operation, if I can avoid it, just to hear better when I already hear well enough. Tom and I were wondering, though, if he was suggesting Neilson was not good enough by recommending I go to the doctor in L.A. Neilson still does surgery. He’s just not in private practice anymore.

After the doctor, we went to the library. I got two videos on doll making and a book on Facercise (face exercises). I scanned copies of the exercises, which are somewhat illustrated. Some of them are straightforward, but others are a bit hard to comprehend. I’ll just do my best with them and see if I get results.

I’ve got half a video left to watch, but so far, I know I don’t want to sculpt or pour molds, but maybe I’ll get into painting/assembly. It’s just that there’s so much needed/involved! It’s so messy, dusty, and boring from what I can see. However, it was still neat to learn what I learned from the video and watch someone else do this stuff.

Tom looked online and found several sites with doll kits. These kits come in three different stages. The cheapest is to get the molds in their greenware state that you paint and fire yourself. Then you can get fired but unpainted dolls. Lastly, you can get them fired and painted. I was amazed at their size and quality for their prices. Even a fired, painted doll that’s around 30” is just around $100. That’s a great deal! I wonder just how much the kit comes with and what work it entails. I hope the hair and the outfits are included, although I’m sure they are. I’ll be looking forward to checking these kits out more seriously sometime soon.

The braids doll came yesterday. I could tell the guy that sent her smoked as I could smell it all over her. Anyway, she’s a cute doll. A little pale in coloring, but cute. She wasn’t in her original box and she had no certificate enclosed so I’ll never know her real name. I named her Mystery, cuz her name is a mystery, and cuz it’s not a common name like Anne or Mary.

The second Giselle we got will stay as she is. However, I took the first Giselle whom I renamed Liselle, and gave her a bit of a makeover. I lost her eyelashes in the midst of it, but because her face isn’t that large, and cuz she was never really an exceptional doll to begin with, it’s OK. I cut her feathers off the top of her head, so now there’s just a little piece of white cotton and a pearl in its center. I may glue on small flowers someday. I cut off the blue silk and blue netting skirts that were under her white lace skirt. Then I took her hair down. It’d be very hard to straighten and looks better curly anyway, so I just took it down, cut the sides even with the rest of it, then pulled the sides to the back and secured it with a coated elastic. I think it looks nice this way.

Andy left a message saying he skipped his therapy appointment yesterday cuz he didn’t feel like going out. He says that on his days off (which is almost every day) he doesn’t feel like going anywhere. Good! Then I don’t have to worry about him wanting to come over here to talk my ear off, use the computer or something else, be too stoned to remember/get a damn thing I say, or want to come to get me and bring me over his smelly place. He said he rented some movies, worked on making Stevie tapes, and ordered a pizza. Again, he sure as hell has no ambitions to do anything but the same few things - eat, watch TV, talk on the phone about God, listen to music, and get high. At least he’s got his bills paid.

As fate would have it, Tom’s got another one of his famous colds, so I have to get sick too. He says this one’s been a very easy cold, but still, it goes to prove I was right when I said that changing his eating habits wouldn’t help his childlike immune system.

It was exactly one month ago today that the blacks moved. Yesterday, the city was here, but only for a short while. They did the lawn and trimmed the trees. That told me that the pregnant kid and her cronies were right around the corner and ought to be moving in this weekend for sure (and I’m not gonna get a damn bit of sleep cuz I’ll be on nights by then). To my knowledge, the city wasn’t here at all today either, but the pregnant kid was. There’s still brush from the trees sitting out front, and the kid’s not moving in today, but she was here long enough to tell me she’s already got the keys. I knew she’d be the next one in. She was the only one I saw come to check the place out. It’s not like with potential buyers or with non-subsidized rent where a slew of people come to look at it. With a subsidized house, they just grab the next name on the waiting list. I still don’t get this nice van, though. Since when is a welfare mom allowed to have any vehicle, let alone a nice one? I didn’t see her or who she was with. Just heard a few door slams and saw the back half of the van in the driveway. The city wasn’t here to let her in, and because she was here more than a few minutes, I knew she had to have keys. If she didn’t, she’d have left as soon as she saw the city wasn’t here to let her in. She probably dropped off some bulky shit.

Just like with the bitch, it’s not her I worry about. She’s not gonna be stirring up too much shit in her condition. It’s her kids and her cronies I’m worried about. The kids she’s got are too young to be left outside by themselves if she has any brains, but what’s to say she and her associates and their ten million kids won’t sit outside here for hours at a time every day? Why not? They don’t work. The weather’s been mild. I hope these people hate the heat, but still, they’re gonna be plenty noisy enough. They can’t shoot hoops, but they can still bounce balls, yell and scream, slam doors, blast music, and have barking dogs. I just thank God we’re gonna be getting out of here soon!

Woke up at 107 pounds today for the first time in a while. So naturally, I couldn’t shit. My body stops shitting once it gets below 108 so it can reset itself to at least 108.

Gotta see the “spit” doctor today.

Paula called at 6:00, but I had just gotten up and wasn’t in the mood for chatting.

Tom said he thought it’d be cool if I used some of the boxes we got for printouts of journals. After thinking about it, I decided it’d be a good idea. I’m stapling them, though, not binding them. You never know if the hard drive and the floppies may go on the fritz. We’re going to get a fireproof/waterproof safe for things like this after we move. So, I’ve been printing out journals, starting at the beginning. Got 18 of them done. Yesterday, I used a whole black ink cartridge. It’s gonna take 15 cartridges to get them all printed out unless I pick up some more white paper so I can print in color, too.

I’ve hardly gotten any emails lately. That’s cuz Evie’s in California for a couple of weeks.

We sent away for my credit report. I hope Fingerhut doesn’t show up. We got the camcorder under the name O and never paid for it.

Tom got the patio roof done. It looks much better.

I suppose the city will be next door in half an hour. I noticed something, although I can’t swear to this, cuz I’m not outside much and out of the fans to hear, but I think that the collies are yanked into the house while the city’s here. That ought to be a nightmare for them; having their dogs inside! Anyway, if they are, it’s no doubt to avoid the city getting on their case about the constant barking and letting them know how rude and inconsiderate that is of them. On the other hand, they very well may not give a shit. After all, this is Arizona, and the Arizona way is to keep dogs outdoors.

Just took a peek over the wall. No one's moving in this weekend for sure. Aside from the unmowed grass and the lack of a security light blaring on and off, there's a ton of stuff on their back patio and it's nothing I threw over. It looked like there were some grills to vents and some other household parts. I'm surprised the recycle bin's not out. Tom had said he wouldn't be surprised if someone moved in today what with the first falling on a Saturday, but as I reminded him, if that pregnant kid I saw is the next one in there, every day's a Saturday for her. She doesn't work, and if she does, I'm sure it's nothing legal.

Good news about the braids doll. Tom got a reply from the guy. The guy said he had back surgery, has about 30 packages going out, and ours was one of them which was sent out yesterday. If he's telling the truth about sending it, I should have it by Tuesday if he sent it priority mail.