God, the constant biting gets frustrating! Every day I bite myself or get pinched by these braces, and I’m so sick of it! I had planned to quit the Tic-Tacs and just chew gum after the braces come off, but I don’t know. Not if that means I’ll be biting the fuck out of myself. The more I chew something, the more I get bit up. It not only doesn’t tickle, but the area that gets bit swells up and makes it harder to chew around.

Tom got primer, and as my vibes said, it doesn’t seem to really help a lot. It looks like we’re gonna have to spray paint since that puts a lot more paint on. If that doesn’t work, I guess we’ll have to either go with a darker color or wallpaper. Why the fuck did I ever have to do this wall art?!

The assholes next door have been home for the most part, as usual, sitting on their asses. The van’s on one of its many trips out right now, though.

God, do I dread this weekend!

I’m reconsidering the exercise machine once again. Maybe I should get it and just build. That doesn’t take numerous hours a day like shaping/toning does. I’ll just have too much muscle rather than too much fat, but I think that if most of us had to choose which one we had an excess of, it’d be the muscle.

As I was doing some printing yesterday, I noticed that the second to last call made by Tammy was on the 5th. Well, of course. The day before Doe’s birthday. She was calling to pressure me into calling Doe on her birthday. The last call still has me baffled, but my guess is that rather than deal with acknowledging my letter and going off on me about it like she probably intended to do that time she tried calling twice, she decided she’d play dumb with the hopes that things would carry on as usual so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Later...

I made the mistake of calling Tammy back, who still insists on calling. I figured I could hold her off and keep her at arm’s length at least till we moved, but from here on out, if she calls again, I’m ignoring her just like with the others for damn sure. There’s nothing anyone can do to ever get me to talk to her again, any more than with the others. I’ve had it for good with anyone named O or G, and that includes Lisa. I hate to give her up, but I have no choice and again, sometimes you have to give up the good in order to give up the bad. Reuniting with her when she’s an adult and on her own would only open up an old can of worms, bringing the past and its people with it, to haunt me all over again. I’m haunted enough as it is. For the rest of my life, I’ll have to deal with thoughts and memories of these people popping into my head at any given time of the day and tormenting me, and this is hard enough to live with.

She called swearing that she wasn’t dumping me and that she wasn’t trying to pressure me into doing anything I didn’t want to do (could’ve fooled me!). All she wanted to do was talk about her feelings. She said she doesn’t give a fuck about Ma, but that she still has feelings for Dad. Well, that’s between her and him, as it is, but I understand we can’t help our feelings. Then she started to tell me something about his carotid artery, making his throat and vocal muscles paralyzed. She said he can talk, but it’s very hard for him and that he’s hard to understand (oh, so they called me a few weeks ago so I could feel sorry for them, huh? They figured they’d use a little pity trip as a way of snaring back into their sick little web of abuse and going through the same old sick cycle). This is when I came out and told her that due to her hyping things up in the past, I had no way of believing or knowing just how ill someone really was when the report was coming from her. She told everyone she was dying when she lived in Texas. She blamed that one on having no self-esteem. Well, I was no angel myself, and I had no self-esteem for a while there either, but I didn’t go around telling people I was dying.

The fact that I felt no emotion whatsoever over Art’s condition, tells me all the more how badly he and his associates have hurt me time and time again. It may take years, but you can only fuck with your kids so many times before they’ll be gone forever. I just thank God he wouldn’t allow me kids so that this cycle could be broken, cuz it won’t break with Tammy. Larry’s nothing like Dureen and Art was, fortunately, but that’s only when the whoring wimp’s home.

Anyway, our conversation ended with her asking for examples of how she’s hyped things up. After the dying in Texas incident, I told her I didn’t buy Bill’s so-called cancer for a minute, and this is when she screamed oh, fuck off and hung up. Well, Tammy, that’s exactly what I’ll do. In fact, I’ll make damn sure to fuck off for the rest of your life. I promise. You asked for it, you got it. Meanwhile, you’ll have to talk to someone else about your feelings. I don’t need any more shit from these people and 33 years of it is more than enough.

I watched Tom’s father struggle with cancer until he died. I saw what it did to him. Meanwhile, Bill’s not only alive, but his health is just wonderful. According to what Tom and I read about lymphoma online, he should be long dead, not that I wish he weren’t.

The very beginning of our little chat started out with her not knowing we were seriously moving (not a word about our anniversary). Oh yeah, we’re damn serious. We just can’t get the fuck out of here fast enough! With our luck, we really will be here till September or even October. Even 7-8 more weeks seems like a year.

Later...

I added Tammy to my mailing list, so that’s Tammy, Larry, the folks, the bitch, the freeloaders, the collie people, and Andy that’ll be hearing from me one last time when we move. 1 manila envelope to Tammy, 1 to Larry, 1 to the folks, 1 to Andy, and 2 to the bitch. 3 regular envelopes to the Mexicans and 1 to the collie people. A total of 10 pieces. I also inserted a couple of sheets of old journal shit in the envelopes I had printed pictures on the backs of, so Bob will get a total of 6 and Paula will get 15. I’ll send them out weekly.

Our freeloaders are doing a different routine tonight. Instead of lights out by 8:00 with the blinds drawn and the van there for the night, their blinds are open, I can see a light down the hall that may be coming from one of the bedrooms (there are 2 in front/1 in back), and the van is nowhere in sight. Maybe the late-night scream I gave them has them a little on guard.

I’m surprised I haven’t seen the little kids outside playing in the late afternoons lately. Maybe they do get a little sensitive to temps over 100º.

Half a decade married! It’s been a great half a decade, that’s for sure. Despite his being a disorganized slob and not very good in bed, I couldn’t be more blessed.

He picked up some primer today for the wall art. I knew we’d have trouble covering most of the Goddamn wall art I wish to hell I never did. He picked up a couple of gallons of it and I hope it works. He’s gonna put a coat of it on the wall art tomorrow.

I’ve seen the people that own the house across the street over there, and I saw a jeep pull in there last night. All it did was pull in, sit for a few minutes, then leave. Right now it appears empty, but I’m sure that soon enough the new batch of kids will arrive. Maybe, though, the owners will be pickier with whom they rent this time around. I know we’re not gonna be here much longer, but I don’t want a dog barking non-stop from right across there!

Again, from what I could see, it was lights out next door at 8:00. Why so early? Well, not all of them were early on hitting the sack. Some kid was dropped off at 1:30 AM in two cars. Why it took two cars to drop off this boy of 18-21 who’s definitely not supposed to be there, beats me.

I typed a brief yet perfect little get-the-fuck-out-lazies!/I’m-gonna-report-you-to-the-city letter that I was gonna claim was from that guy we saw talking to them that also talked to Tom, and tape it to the back of their van at 3 AM last night, but I chickened out. Not because I feared what they’d do if they saw me, but because it’d be just my shit luck that they’d come to this door inquiring about it and maybe asking if we knew this man when Tom was home and awake. Naturally, all we’d have to do is deny knowing a damn thing about it, but the paranoia it’d bring upon Tom may very well kill him. So, instead of typing it to ‘Resident’ at their address with no return address, I handwrote a bogus name, put the return address as being across the street and a few houses down, and then in the lower-left corner of the envelope, I wrote: $10 Wal-Mart certificate enclosed. This way, just in case they would’ve thrown the envelope away seeing that it wasn’t addressed to them, they should at least want that certificate.

I can’t believe the mailman hasn’t given me a piece of their mail yet! Most of the mail we get that isn’t ours, although it improved after the 10th complaint, is to N. 21 Dr.

Anyway, the Mexicans will be getting 3 envelopes from me. I decided they should read up on their party review, after all.

Tom sees I was right - no one next door works. He suggested that the guy with the van could be on disability, but admits that it’d be unlikely for a couple to be on disability together. I don’t think they are. I think she’s on welfare and that he’s just freeloading off of her and that he got that van illegally.

Later...

Got an anniversary card from Kim. That was nice of her to remember, unlike someone who’s supposed to be my best friend. That is unless he calls later. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did call later, only I doubt he’ll even acknowledge our anniversary. A part of that could be his jealousy, though, and not just his pot brain with its dead memory cells and his being wrapped up in his own self. A friend shouldn’t have to get another friend a gift, or even send a card on birthdays and anniversaries, but a simple, quick phone call would be nice. A simple “happy anniversary.” But you know how it is, you can’t make people care about things they just don’t care about.

Guess I didn’t re-offend him by sending him the last letter I sent him clarifying what I meant by his jumping from subject to subject. Personally, I wouldn’t have cared if I did. I have better things to do than smooth over any ruffled feathers Andy might have and I’m just not in the mood to smooth over his poor little hurt feelings right now if he’s got any.

Later...

The freeloaders look like they may be getting their yard done now, although I don’t hear anything. There’s an old beat-up truck with a cage-like back that’s parked on the street in front of their house. I was wondering when they were gonna stop watering and start cutting that grass. Could just be one of the many assholes that visit them, though.

I hope it’s as hot as they say it’s going to be this weekend, although I’m sure they’ll still be outside acting like wild little assholes, blaring music from their house. At least half a dozen cars will have to visit, too. Everybody’s always gotta go next door. Next door just can’t go to them. If it’s not as rowdy as last Saturday, then it’ll be like Sunday was. Sunday was in between Saturday’s nightmare and yesterday’s and today’s peace. In fact, if they were like they have been today and yesterday every day that we’re still here, we’d have it made, but that’s just not gonna happen. They said it was supposed to be 102º the day they partied, but Tom said it couldn’t have even hit 100º. They say this weekend’s to be 105º. A little hotter, if not much, but like I said, still won’t keep them from ruling the outdoors.

I’ve got a ton of stuff to write about. A ton! I may not remember everything in the first shot, so I may have to come back and make additions as more things come to me. I wasn’t in a good frame of mind to take notes for the most part, and yes, it has to do with our wonderful freeloaders. Besides the lovely welfare bums, though, I was quite busy. Before getting to next door, let me get other things out of the way first.

I’m having second thoughts about an exercise machine. It’d take hours and hours of working out every day to get the ideal body and to really make a difference in my muscle tone and my appearance. I just don’t have the desire to work out 8 hours a day. I’m never gonna be smaller than I have been the last 6-7 months, and I’m never gonna be under 108 pounds again, either. Not without starving or being ill. So, it’s best I just accept that and do the best I can to maintain the muscle and appearance I’ve got now, but I’m not gonna drive myself crazy with it and slave myself 8 hours a day. I’ll never be thin again and that’s that.

I’m hoping to get Trio 2 sometime soon. I forgot about that till I remembered it the other day. That’s the second album Linda, Dolly, and Emmylou did together. They put out their first one in ‘87 when I was living on Oswego Sreet in Springfield.

That wasn’t Andy who called Saturday morning when I last wrote. I was surprised he didn’t call me on Saturday, though. He chose Sunday evening instead. He told me that he and Michelle had been having fun going to gay bars.

I did get a call on Saturday morning from someone else, though. I got up at 8:00 that morning and saw that my dear old sister called. When I went to listen to her message, I got the exact opposite of what I expected to hear. I expected her to really lay into me and cuss me out and cut me down in every way possible, but instead, all she said was hi, hope to talk to you guys soon. What’s going on here? Is she playing dumb, or did she not get my fuck you letter? Well, in hopes of keeping her at a distance till we can split, I sent her a letter saying that I just needed time and would contact her once we moved, but as you know, I’ll do no such thing.

The last 3 days we spent painting the house. Tom was sandblasting the pool steps, too. It’s got a way to go but is moving along sure enough. He packed some more in the back room and took the shelves down that were bracketed to one wall.

We decided to celebrate our anniversary on his birthday. We’ll go to Red Lobster that day, and to Wal-Mart to pick each other up some cheap little $10 gift. We don’t want to be spending any money right now what with the move coming up, and you know how we are - just being together, happy and healthy, is what matters most.

OK, freeloader update - the nightmare began just after I last wrote last Saturday morning. The only thing they haven’t taken from me yet is my sleep. And they also haven’t gotten that dog yet or blasted in and out with car stereos, but they certainly took my peace away from me last Saturday. That’s the only credit I can give these sick, sorry, motherfuckers I’d like to kill so bad. God, I am so sick of blacks, Mexicans, Mormons, and assholes!!!! Someone’s gotta set these fuckers straight. They’ve got to be taught that having a subsidized house is not a ticket to making a scene for the whole neighborhood.

Saturday was like having the blacks and Mormons all over again all rolled into one. The ironic part of it was that this wild party followed the party the blacks had back in June of ‘96 to a T, with the exception of the car stereos. The similarity in it was almost scary, but that’s what you get when you got blacks or Mexicans on your shoulders. I never hated them as much as I do now. They are the rudest, hateful, mean, selfish, subhuman species I’ve ever known, and God should be ashamed of himself for creating such fucking assholes! What did I ever do to these assholes for God to sic them on me as he has?!

The party was also on a Saturday, it also was in June (the 8th rather than the 12th), they too, had a zillion cars over there, they partied for 12 hours, they barbecued, they played music from their house, and a ton of adult and kid’s voices could be heard carrying on throughout the whole ordeal. Like I said, the party was almost identical to the blacks.

Just when I was thinking that these people just might be OK after all, what with God knowing we’re moving soon, I found out the hard way how wrong I was, and boy was it hard to restrain myself. I wanted to let them have it soooooo bad with no regard to Tom’s reminding me that no human being can beat up 16 people. I was too mad to care. Yeah, I probably would’ve gotten my ass kicked, but it would’ve been worth it. These freeloaders don’t know just how lucky they are, though. It’s only because it’s temporary (besides Tom’s wanting to always do things the legal way) but had we no plans to move, you bet I’d lose it on them! I’m so sick of these fucking freeloaders partying at our expense. We pay for them to sit on their asses all day and they treat us like shit in return for it. When is this country gonna wake the fuck up and change its totally unfair laws?! These scum suckers have got to go. We can’t keep supporting them for 3 or more years at a time and have them carry on in society the way they do. No wonder there are so many racists! Well, the hatred they get is exactly what they ask for. They get what they deserve when they encounter racism. If they learned how to carry on like respectful, productive, normal, non-selfish, non-destructive, non-lazy human beings, then maybe people would see them in a different light. Meanwhile, you carry on like a fucking selfish asshole, desperate for attention, no one’s going to like you or give a damn. From here on out, I don’t care if they see me spying on them, I don’t care if they hear me singing at night, I don’t care what they think about the complaints the city’s gonna receive on them, but I’ll tell you one thing right now and this is a fact, not a threat - if any of these assholes come to my door, the reaction won’t be just verbal like it was with that black bitch. There’ll be no words coming out of my mouth and I don’t care if there are 50 of them.

There’s a chance they may get complained about by others, too. That guy who asked Tom what the story was with them was talking to one of the people who attended the party, and he might be lodging a complaint. We think he was trying to weed out any info he could from the guy. Also, their rowdiness set off someone’s house alarm in back somewhere. The reason we’re gonna wait till next week to send off our letter is so that the city doesn’t think we mistook their noise for moving-in noise. By then these losers will have been here 3 weeks. Also, Tom wants to wait till we get closer to moving, cuz he thinks that they’ll react just the opposite of the blacks. He thinks it’ll provoke them into being louder, and that they’re “blatantly illegal.” They go to extremes and push it to the limit till they can’t get away with their shit anymore, then they go elsewhere and start all over again. They don’t mind getting evicted, either. Yeah, but the city’s not gonna just keep moving them around. If they get evicted enough times, then they’re on their own, and if they’re too lazy to work, what are they gonna do? Guess they’ll have to deal drugs, won’t they? That’s probably why so many Mexicans and blacks deal in the first place. It’s easier than working. They’re just so anti-work. “Blatantly fucked” is what they are, and no matter when we move, or what they do, they’re gonna get theirs and I’m gonna see to it. No matter what happens from here on out, and regardless of the fact that they have been much quieter, the city and the mayor’s gonna be hearing from us. Someone’s gotta teach these assholes that they can’t keep up with the same old cycle of shit and that their avenues will run out on them.

Anyway, from the looks of it, Saturday was a special occasion. We thought one of the millions of kids was having a birthday party, but it may’ve been more like a housewarming party, cuz I thought I saw someone carrying a gift as they arrived, and Tom saw a box for a blender in the dumpster. I thought housewarming parties were supposed to be for those who owned houses, not rented.

At 10:00, the music began. Not from cars, but from inside the house. It didn’t have the bass that rap music has, and with no fans, you could only hear it in the music room, and faintly in the bedroom. That was enough for me, though, so I went out front just as half a dozen adults and half a dozen kids were pulled up in two cars and told them to turn the music down.

A woman said, “We don’t have any music.”

I mentioned the music coming from the house, and she said she’d tell them. Believe it or not, the music did get softer. I could still hear it in the music room, but it did actually get softer. But not right away. No, these rebellious little fucks, that are a total, total carbon copy of the phony black cock, took their sweet time in lowering it. Nothing could be heard at all over fans, the music was never close to being loud enough to wake me up, and neither was anything else they did, but we both heard enough. The illegality of it and knowing that it’s our tax dollars that lets them carry on this way is what really burned me up. And how dare God give people like this any kids let alone so many! I don’t want a kid, and he did the right thing by not allowing me one, but I swear, he wants kids to go to the fuck-ups of this world. That was obvious a long time ago, and I try not to let things that I can never change get to me, but it’s hard at times. I’d have gone after them for damn sure if I knew we weren’t moving, and I’d have been way more stressed out and tight-chested. I’d have slept like shit too, always waking up, but I slept OK. Not going to sleep till the party was breaking up helped, too. In fact, I went to sleep at the exact same time I did the night of the freeloader’s big bash.

I thought about opening the music room window and giving them a sample of my music, but as Tom said, they wouldn’t even think twice about it, cuz it’s so much a part of their lives and everyday living.

When I asked Tom what our compensation would be for the new house, since God puts strings attached to everything he lets me have and seemingly with him too, he said this is our compensation. I hope he’s right!

It just couldn’t get dark fast enough, but not even that stopped them from hanging outside yelling and screaming. I can’t believe our yard wasn’t littered like hell. They sat on their cars and were everywhere! In back, in front, in the carport, in the driveway. The house was infested with adults and kids. I knew the heat wouldn’t keep them inside, although conveniently, God’s been keeping things pretty mild around here weather-wise. I kept wishing it was December, cuz I’d think that any normal human being wouldn’t want to be out on a cold winter evening, but these people are anything but normal, and not even human as far as I’m concerned.

Let’s see…besides the 5-hour concert, there were at least a dozen cars, and of course, they kept coming and going. They’re all so fucking fat over there that they probably had to keep going to the store for hot dogs and shit like that (they were barbecuing), among lines of coke, no doubt.

For cars - there was the ranchero, the gold one, the darker gold one, some dark green one, the furniture truck, the blue pickup, a silver pickup, an older white car, a new white car, a red and white van, and more.

The voices were non-stop for 12 hours, and I almost screamed shut up out back by the wall just to make me feel better. However, I knew that if Tom heard me, he’d be paranoid that Iran’s army would come hunt us down and kill us for it.

This is really gonna hurt us trying to sell this place. These people fuck those up who just want to live their lives in peace in so many ways. No one wants to move into a Mexican neighborhood with their loud, overcrowded, selfish, rude lifestyle. I just hope God sends us someone who doesn’t mind the noise, but I know better than to ask him for any favors.

Yesterday, I heard horn-honking, a woman saying, “Fucking son of a bitch,” and the kids’ screams that would come in intermittent bouts. Like I said, it was blacks and Mormons all over again. The blue pickup was over there for a while yesterday. Just like with the bitch, they can’t go a day in their lives without some car showing up there. The fat broad in the ranchero was the visitor of today, but today’s been amazingly quiet. Today they’re pretty much back to being how they were up till Saturday. Not even the kids are out for their evening stroll in the street.

My neighbor at the Vista, Mary B, wasn’t kidding when she said that where there’s 1 there are 50 of these things. There had to have been a total of 50 people, counting adults and kids.

Our beautiful freeloaders have been predictable, outdoors, at home practically all the time, and have company every day. I can't believe there's only been one bout of music and that there's no dog yet, but I still have a dog vibe.

The van's been in and out already and is in and out a dozen times a day. At least, like I said before, they hop in and go. They don't slam doors a dozen times to get my attention along the way. I heard them talking in their carport, but couldn't make out anything that was said. I saw a broom handle leaning against the house and saw that their driveway was wet, so they've been watering again.

Here we go again with the weekend calls from Andy. That's OK, though, cuz if all goes well and as planned, there should only be about 8 weekends left here.

Anyway, there's a gold car here, but it's not the same gold car that the older couple drive. At least I don't think it is. It seems darker. I think that whoever drives this car has kids, but don't all freeloaders? Yesterday, about 4-5 animals were out front. Amazingly, the only sound I heard was when one of them decided to beat its hand on the basketball hoop pole that still stands.

This is the third morning I’ve woken up to spots. They go away after I’ve been up for a little while. It’s obviously accumulating in my sleep, then when my body’s upright after awakening, I bleed a little.

The day before yesterday I was up for 18 hours and slept for only 6 hours. I wasn’t tired, though. Yesterday I was up about 16, your normal number of hours that you’re up for, but then I only slept 5 hours. I crashed last night close to midnight and got up just before 5:00. I’m a little tired. This is good, though, cuz I’m gonna need to be on days as much as I can while we’re prepping and moving.

The bird clock’s dead already? But we just changed the batteries. Damn, those sounds really suck up the juice!

I don’t know why I’ve been calling the house I like best a Redman model when it’s a Palm Harbor. It gets hard to keep track of all the names. There’s Shultz, Redman, Cavco, Palm Harbor, and more.

Later...

The gold car just came next door, and again, I swear this old couple’s white. The guy was on crutches. It’s weird, though. Why would this seemingly well-to-do white couple want to associate with poor, lazy old scum? I don’t have a bad vibe on next door for the weekend, but unless the Ranchero or some other vehicle bangs in, I shouldn’t. That’s because I’m still pretty sure that the weekends will be just like the weekdays and when you don’t work, and none of the people you know work, your daily routine tends to be the same whether it’s the weekend or not.

The gold car’s leaving. This time, someone’s in the backseat with them. The guy’s nauseating, though. Totally anorexic. It seems that the guys I’ve seen over there are bone-thin while the women are huge. Except for the one that comes with the girl in the blue pickup.

Once again, though, just like with the blacks, all the vehicles except for the Ranchero have been nice and fairly new. Whoever it is that owns the van, does not work. I doubt they inherited the money to buy the van and laze around. They either stole the money for the van. Stole something and cashed it in so they could buy the van. Or they’re dealing drugs or doing something illegal in order to afford the van and laze off.

Tom said the war was over. I don’t watch the news. Too depressing. So I asked him which war he was talking about and he said we were bombing some country I’d never heard of. I asked why the slut president felt that was necessary and he said just because. That’s what’s really scary. If you can bomb innocent people in other countries, why not in your own country? People are sick enough to let their friends and family be killed just so they can take down the whole country and more. And then of course there’s our wonderful God to fear and despise for letting this happen.

Yesterday, I saw a young fat girl move the Ranchero to let the blue pickup out, driven by the fat girl and the guy. A couple of hours later, the Ranchero left. No music.

It looks like we may have more Mexicans moving in next door. There’s a gold pickup I’ve never seen before, and then the blue one was here for a while, too. The van’s been in all day. The van didn’t take off till late afternoon yesterday, but for how many times, I don’t know. Anyway, I saw tons of kids and adults carrying kids’ toys into the house. See, this is the problem with Mexicans. They cause overcrowding due to the way they breed like rabbits. Take a house, any house, and you’ve got wall-to-wall Mexicans.

Some guy was asking Tom, as he pulled in today, what the scoop was with next door. I guess we’re not the only ones who aren’t happy about it being a rental, and even more so that it’s an overcrowded rental owned by the city. So, Tom’s gonna send a letter to the city using the address we’ve been using to let them know of the overcrowding in a couple of days. If they start being noisy, the letter will go in right away, to the city and to the mayor.

I decided the pack of freeloaders isn’t worth the ink and paper, so I’ve decided to print the 15 or so pages I have on them and mail that in a regular envelope. I’m not gonna mail them all I’ll write about them while we’re here and send it to them in a manila envelope like with the blacks.

If I said it before, I’ll say it again - thank God there’s no hoop over there! I still can’t believe how quiet they’ve been though, as far as the kids go, and as far as that one bass attack being all we’ve heard so far. I just hope we’re out of here by the time the weather starts cooling down!

The fucking freeloaders are overloading the dumpster. I did say, after all, that there’s a lot of trash next door. God! Why me? Huh?! Why is it always next to me?!

Tom got the paints today (the yellow for the cabinets is called yellow rose) and we’re gonna begin painting this weekend. Right now, he thinks we can be moved by early August. I hope he’s right! At least my October vibe has faded. Even September’s a little weak, so that’s good.

Later...

Damn, these fucking distractions! I’m trying to talk to my husband, but the fucking phone which rings non-stop, just won’t fucking quit! When am I gonna be paid back enough, God? When are we going to let the past be the past and move on, huh? How much more payback do I deserve? Maybe someday he’ll forgive me for my mistakes as well as for my forefathers.

Both pickups have left, but how many people are in that house right now and how many are living there for sure, is still unclear. I just know there are close to a dozen and that most of them aren’t supposed to be there.

I forgot to mention that Tom said Butterscotch lunged at him the other night. He just charged at him when he was walking by to let Shiny out. I believe it. He is a meany. The most aggressive of the rats.

I cleaned the rat’s cage today and put newspaper in place of sawdust. I want to see how well it absorbs, how messy it is, and how much they like it, although I tend to think they don’t give a damn one way or the other. I’m hoping this will work out, cuz I’m getting a little tired of their kicking sawdust outside the cage.

Also, I cleaned the bar walls of the cage. It took me nearly 3 hours to clean it rung by rung.

I just can’t wait to move! The only sad part of it is that when we do move into that bigger, nicer, more modern home with its beautiful desert landscape and its peace and quiet, there’ll be a price to pay for it. You think God’s gonna let me have it sweet and nice with no strings attached? Think again! That’s not the way God works with me. Every good thing he lets me have has a string or two attached. I don’t know what the payment’s gonna be, though. Could be something wrong with the house, something wrong with us, more problems at work for Tom. My guess is that he’ll have things within the house, among our stuff, break or not work right. It’d be just my luck to move and find that the dishwasher doesn’t work, but at least we’ll be out of here!

I mentioned to Tom certain things I saw happening when we moved, including that the sex would remain as it has been. Then he had the nerve to say he would go down on me but was hesitant cuz he doesn’t want me to pretend I’ve cum. What a lame excuse. Why does he always have to make up some bogus excuse, or pin the blame on me, instead of just coming out and admitting that he doesn’t want to? It’s plain and simple - he doesn’t want to. He can just say so. Not make excuses.

The nerve of him, though, cuz wasn’t it him that was the pretender for a while there? Wasn’t it him that claimed to be cumming most of the time for many months till I spilled the beans on him and let him know I knew better? I told him how it was quite ironic how things changed as soon as I spilled the beans on him. When I pointed this out to him, though, he said that it comes and goes in spurts. Yeah, right. Uh-huh. Tom, you’re great at just about everything, but you’re a lousy liar. I mean how fucking convenient to say that, huh? He says the reason he hasn’t been cumming lately is cuz he’s had problems, be it colds, his back, etc. But he always has a problem. Ever since I knew him, there was a problem. Some are legit, but my gut instinct tells me that most of them were just excuses.

I hope he isn’t forgetting the important thing and that’s that he can never cum again if that’s what he wants, as long as he’s happy, doesn’t lie, or play games. I appreciate the fact that he hasn’t put me through the sexual head games he used to, like the I-forgot-how-to-screw game he used to play with me when he wouldn’t go inside.

Oh, did I tell you yet how he’s changed from guessing we’ll have a child to that being a logical thing to happen? Yeah, he feels a kid is logical cuz of how our lives are going. That’s what he said in the past several times. Well, he can stay in denial all he wants and believe what he wants, but I know two things. That it can’t happen no matter how our lives are going, and that it’s still not what I want.

Later...

The van’s made a couple of its multi-trips out.

Again, the little animals are out with the sunset. It amazes me that I can see them, but I can’t hear them.

Tom and I were talking about how mish-mashed this house is. Some of the baseboards are wood, some are vinyl. Some of the plugs/outlets are wood, some are plastic. They used two different types of wood to do the kitchen cabinets and two different shades of yellow. A darker shade for the upper cabinets and a lighter for the bottom. Then there’s the shade of yellow that’s in the tiles, and the contact paper that’s white with yellow wicker-like stripes that’s on a few of the cabinet doors. Of course, there’s also that blue/green paint I painted on, too. Then you have the disgustingly ugly floor colors of gold, dark orange, and brown.

Tom’s mom sent us an anniversary card with a $25 check.

Been here for 7 years today!

More evidence has come in to make my mass ovulation theory a little more likely. I can’t say for sure, cuz I’m no expert, but I just had a big spot. I’ve noticed I tend to spot after having those mid-cycle pains. I’ve read you can bleed a little when you ovulate, so if you can bleed from ovulating one egg, imagine how you could bleed from releasing a lot of eggs. Normally, you’re not supposed to be able to feel yourself ovulate, but if the ovary wall is opening up wider than usual, with a lot of eggs going through it like a bunch of people trying to cram through a doorway, maybe you could feel it. Any kind of cyst is out of the question, cuz those grow for a long time before they hurt, and it would’ve shown up last December. Why it feels like a UT infection, though, beats me, but I find it awfully hard to believe I’m getting a UT every month at the same time of month. Also, I had no cramps. Usually, when the bleeding’s coming from the uterus, you have cramps, but I never had cramps.

If my theory is right, though, it makes no sense. It’s totally against destiny. Why would God allow me to release so many eggs at once if he knew a kid wasn’t meant to be unless the eggs were maybe dead? I can see it making sense if a kid was meant to be to bypass his not cumming, but since it’s not, I just don’t get it, if this is the case.

If God can do anything, though, and if I’m right about a kid not being meant to be, then it doesn’t matter if Tom doesn’t feel comfortable with cumming, and it doesn’t matter how many eggs I do or do not have, dead or alive.

Now I’ve got quite an update on Andy, which for the most part, isn’t very good.

We finally got to talk yesterday. I couldn’t believe he didn’t leave me any messages last weekend, but I think I know why. He started off by telling me that when he got the letter I sent to Gary’s house, he was not a happy camper and he suggested I don’t include my journal excerpts. He said I was so mean and he was offended by the following excerpt:

I first showed him my dolls, then the animals. He had trouble focusing, though, and I couldn’t get his attention to hold on to any one subject for too long. If I’d comment about the dolls, he’d ask about the rats. If I’d comment about the mice, he’d ask about objects in the back room.

When I wrote this I didn’t mean it to be “mean.” I meant it to be simply a fact like if I said I was short, I was hyper, I had asthma, etc. It was just an observation I made, and I do the same thing all the time. We both do. We’ve both always been on the hyper side and tended to repeat ourselves a lot and jump from subject to subject, and even he himself has admitted to this. It isn’t just him and I’m not saying he’s a bad person for it. I was simply stating what I perceived his state of mind to be at the time. It was sort of like he was distracted and had his mind on other things. I never meant to imply that he wasn’t paying any attention at all to the things I was saying, although yes, Andy has always had a problem with being a little on the selfish side and once again, he’s even admitted this, and has said that he’s gonna do what he wants to do.

I was right about his suspicions too, cuz I’ve dumped my sister and parents in the past and he never wondered if he was next back then. Now, though, he’s wondering if he could be next cuz I seem to have a problem with his ways, he says. There was no way I was gonna lie. I told him “I don’t know what the future holds with that.” Then I guess my dumping him won’t hit him as hard or surprise him as much.

Andy mentioned how he doesn’t dump people so easily, and he’s right. My having a hard time tolerating his ways, and my not sticking to the friendship as faithfully as he has, is my problem. In fact, if I had to pick Andy’s best quality, it’d be his sticking to friendships and not dumping people. I sort of envy him. I wish I could be as faithful and as tolerant, but on the other hand, I used to be that way and found that that was what got me in so many jambs with people. By sticking by and tolerating fuck-ups like Fran for as long as I did, I ended up having to deal with all his shit for as long as I did. Same goes for Nervous and so many others. I’m not saying I didn’t give them any shit in return, but things have changed. I think Andy’s in denial, not willing to accept that we’ve become so different from one another, but it’s true. I’m very very picky as to who I associate with nowadays, and not as tolerant as Andy is or as I used to be. I’m not saying his ways are wrong (except for the pot and the smokes, cuz it’s always wrong when we abuse our bodies) I’m just saying I’m bored, sick of, and annoyed by them, and that’s my own problem. If it’s wrong, or a weakness on my part, then so be it, but it’s not his fault.

It’s tough for me with my conflicting feelings. A part of me wants to stick by him like he’s stuck by me, not dump him, try to be more accepting and tolerant of his ways, and risk the consequences of being in his car again with his pot. Even though he’s a damn good driver, anything’s possible. The other part, the much bigger part, says to walk away for reasons that I’ve already gone through a million times.

Later...

The blue/green pickup’s here now. Also, the van apparently made its first trip in and out for the day, because it’s parked in a different spot than it was earlier.

Back to Andy. What it comes down to is that we’ve just become very different people with very different interests. I’m not saying I’m not doing some things I was doing back in the 80s, like journaling, and I’m not saying we have literally nothing in common, I’m just saying that his ways aren’t for me anymore, and I don’t want a druggie for a friend anymore. I’m just bored with his ways and I’m tired of talking to someone that’s baked out of his mind nearly every time we talk, and who just doesn’t get or remember half the things I say. Or write. He just gets on my nerves. If that makes me a Dureen, in a sense, for being so non-accepting and non-tolerating, then so be it, but I feel it’s best to walk away from him than to try to change him. I’ve politely asked him certain favors, like not eating on the phone, which I don’t think is asking too much, but to try to change everything about him that bugs me would be trying to change him. Meanwhile, he’s got other people he can call who’ll accept and tolerate his ways. Even if he backs off the phone like he has as soon as he suspected he was next, it’s still time to move on. We’ve done our time together and we’ve done what we were destined to do for each other (but I’m not always sure what I was supposed to have done for him).

Wow, it’s the 9th and I’m already on the 20th page for this month. For last month, I was only on the 4th page or so by this time.

Later...

The girl and the guy in the blue/green pickup just left. I remember seeing them when they were unloading the pickup. They’re fairly young. He’s sort of beefy and she’s your classic fat mom, but not as fat as the lady that lives there. She has long hair. It was pulled back in a ponytail with a white scrunchy.

What? Did we forget something? The pickup just came right back, then went right back out again.

We didn’t finish our discussion about his trip (cuz Tom came home and I wanted to spend a little time with him before he had to crash), but I’m very happy with him for the fact that he didn’t try contacting Tammy. I appreciate his respecting my wishes. I’m shocked he hasn’t mentioned God or food, but I’m sure he will soon enough. Again, this isn’t something I detest with a passion. So be it if he wants to tell me about God and the food he eats. Just because I think he’s delusional about God for the most part, and just because I think he’s making a pig of himself and making himself sick, doesn’t mean he’s wrong for it. He can believe what he wants and eat what he wants. It’s just that it gets old, that’s all. I still can’t figure out, though, if he’s stuffing himself to reflect Michelle onto himself, or if he’s doing it to make himself sick so he can have an excuse to avoid working.

All he really told me was that it didn’t rain on him, miraculously, but that it was hot, muggy, and cloudy the whole time he was there. He didn’t get to spend much time at the beach cuz of the cloudiness, and cuz Jenny, Gary’s girlfriend, fucked him out of having some time to himself at the cottage. So did Jenny’s stepfather. I guess he just had to do some work on a cottage wall at the time Andy wanted to be there. Then Jenny came down and took a whole slew of people along with her that live barely an hour away and that could’ve used the cottage any other time. Well, that whole family and its associates have always been notorious for being rude. Except for Marla, although she’s been rather rude to Charlotte. I agree with Andy as far as that goes - fine. Don’t be nice to Charlotte. But let the past go and don’t be rude and tell her you didn’t mean to say hello when you accidentally did cuz you thought it was someone else. I haven’t had any experience with Linda other than the phone chat we had last December, but I can see what Andy means when he says he feels like he’s walking on eggshells when he’s around her. I can see how she may be hard to deal with. This is why I haven’t contacted her as much as Marla. Judy and Al have always been phony, rude, selfish, vindictive, lying, gossiping trashholes, and the brothers are unstable little druggies themselves. Most of the family treats poor Andy like an outsider who no longer belongs cuz he’s even more different and cuz he’s moved away.

I don’t know what really happened in the 70s with our parents. Was it Judy and Al’s fault? Dureen and Art’s? Both? Don’t know and don’t care. All I’m saying is that I’ll never know for sure what went down, but I do know this - I know what these people are capable of. I’m sure they all fucked each other over. Shitfucks shit on other shitfucks all the time. An asshole for an asshole. That sort of thing. Know what I’m saying?

Meanwhile, I sent a note to Andy explaining the excerpts to hopefully smooth over his poor little feelings for now. I’m trying not to make any waves till we can get out of here. I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, cuz it’s only for a few more months. It’s not like I don’t care about his feelings at all. I do, but at the same time, I can only spend so much time worrying about his precious, fragile feelings. I’m sure he can relate to that, too.

Speaking of precious, fragile feelings, I’m both surprised and not surprised that I haven’t gotten a call from Tammy about the letter I sent her explaining why I don’t want anything to do with her. Again, not that it’d change a damn thing, but just to express myself, which always feels good. I’m surprised cuz I know a letter like she got would upset her, but I’m not surprised cuz she probably wouldn’t want to give me the satisfaction of a reaction, but she’d be falsely flattering herself if that’s what she thought it’d be. A reaction wouldn’t satisfy me at all. No way. I don’t want to know she exists.

Anyway, the next thing I’m going to cover that Andy told me about makes me think, what a total, total loser! How desperate! What a waste of time! But hey, it’s his life. It doesn’t make it a bad thing, just because I wouldn’t want to go cross country to make out with some bar slut. He went to a new bar and made out with some guy, then had to deal with Adam’s boyfriend squeezing his ass. He didn’t want to tell Adam cuz of how happy he was. I can understand that, but poor old Adam’s happiness isn’t bound to last. He’s gotta find out sooner or later, I’d think, that his boyfriend’s a regular little whore.

I don’t know what else he did there. I’ll find out in our next conversation, but I have a feeling this is all he did.

He said that Wendy was super high all the way back there. She does major drugs like Laura did. Yeah, that’s an Andy friend for you.

He said he’s not going to be distributing notes anymore, cuz Wendy got him to see that he should be promoting peace, not terrorizing people. Good advice for a crystal druggie.

Later...

I was wrong. Tammy just tried calling twice, but I quickly picked up and hung up before a message could be left. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her I didn’t want to know she existed and that I’d erase any messages she left as soon as I heard her voice. You know how people are - gotta do the opposite of what you tell them.

An out-of-area call just came in right after the two with Mark’s number, which is typically sales, but it also says that for collect calls. Even so, I have a feeling that despite the many sales calls we get, that was Tammy trying to see if she could get through by calling collect.

I know Tammy, though. She’s a stubborn bitch who doesn’t give up. If she really wants to push her existence in my face, she’ll try again till she can leave a fuck you message, but fine. That doesn’t mean I have to listen to it or have her, her parents, or her brother in my life ever again.

I wonder, does Andy even have her number anymore? If so, he can call her and she and he can bitch about me together after I’m gone.

I asked Tom for his opinion as to my walking away from Andy and the others. He said he didn’t see the necessity of it cuz one can just let things evolve apart. Yeah, right! Not with the parents, the sister, and Andy. That’s not the way it works with them.

Later...

This is the longest stretch of time I’ve known the van to stay put. It’s been where it’s at since around 8:00 this morning. The pickup’s here again, though.

Tom sanded some more spackling and ordered the paints to be mixed. They’ll be ready tomorrow. Just the outside trim and the interior paints, though. We still have to bring them a sample of the light blue that’s on the house and hope they can match it. That way we only have to do the bad spots and not the whole house. We’re gonna be painting the exterior a glossy extreme white, and the interior walls a flat bridal gown. We need to get Blue Mist for the pool, and I don’t know what the yellow for the cabinet is called. I think that one only goes by a number, not a name.

I have more news on Andy. We talked for what seemed like forever and it took me 4 tries to get him off the phone. If I wanted to hang up at noon, for example, I’d have to start mentioning it and trying at a quarter till. Nonetheless, the conversation went well. He seemed sober and alert and spoke more fluently. Yes, most of what he told me was the same old same old, and the inevitable food and God delusion came up, but some of the things he told me were just so typical of him, that they were actually kind of amusing.

Let’s see…he left off with making out with Adam’s roommate and getting his ass squeezed by Adam’s boyfriend. After that, he went to the beach with Wendy. From what he’s told me so far, Wendy sounds pretty fucked up and selfish. He says she doesn’t do drugs as much since leaving Phoenix, though, and that she hated it here.

He didn’t see Charlotte, but he saw Natalie and Al. Natalie said to give her regards to me. Like I really care! He told me of some cottages that got modernized, including his favorite.

He said the first time he went down there, the water was unusually blue and clear. So clear you could see the bottom. What happened to that brown murky filth we always used to know? He said the place was litter-free too, till he went down the second time. He said the second time, the water was just as clear, but there was litter on the flat rocks. So, he decided that he was going to clean it up and not take any credit for it, cuz it’s best to get that from God. Gee, I wish I could get credit from God where it’s due me! I mean, what’s the trick? How does he get credit while I don’t? He said his tongue had been hurting him cuz of a decayed tooth rubbing against it, but that after he cleaned up, it was gone. He said he didn’t appreciate how Wendy bragged to a couple of people walking by that they were gonna go clean up. She never lifted a finger to help either, as Andy figured would be the case.

He said he had a lengthy discussion with his mother. His inheritance will be the condo they own in Springfield, which he doesn’t want. He says he’s gonna sell it and put the money towards buying some other house out here. Judy told him she felt he’d be happier if he sold his stuff and drove home, and that he could stay with them rent-free for as long as he needed to. Andy told her that even though his life is the same here as it was there, he’s staying here. Wendy also offered to put him up in the guy’s mansion she lives in in Brookline, New Hampshire. It’s nice to know he has all these options open to him.

He said he was bored most of the time he was there and that two weeks is too long. He said he’ll only go back there for a week at a time from now on.

Later...

Tom said he didn’t think the Ranchero would be back and that he thought it was just someone helping them out only. Well, it’s back. I knew it would be. The amazing thing about it is that I haven’t heard any music, but we’ll see. The pickup’s still here, too. None of these Mexicans work. They’re totally, totally lazy bums.

Later...

Andy finished off his visit in New Hampshire. The guy that owns the house bought an old ski resort which is the mountain his house sits on. He said the house was gorgeous and so was the view looking down into town. Wendy takes care of this house when the guy’s out of town. He owns 4 houses.

Wendy introduced him to a “functional drunk” who lives nearby. Leave it to Wendy to know such a character. He said that she had a nice house too, with a horse that was well taken care of. She was some artist, I guess, who was seeing a married man.

Andy flew out of New Hampshire and not from Bradley. He flew to Baltimore, then boarded his plane for here. He said he was sitting next to a couple of unruly boys, got up to go to the bathroom, then sat down in a different seat next to a gay guy. The guy was his type, but was from DC and only going to Phoenix for a wedding. Figures, huh? That’s just his luck. If he weren’t his type, he’d be headed for Phoenix to stay.

He told me he went to the bar when he first came back, which was loaded with your typical sluts. He said it was also the first time he went 90 minutes in a bar without smoking. He’s been thinking of quitting a lot. Aren’t most smokers?

I was right about Michelle. I knew it. I just knew it. She did get dumped by that so-called stable teacher. That so-called stable teacher was very similar to how Kacey was, telling Michelle she loved her one minute, then didn’t want her in her life the next. What a shit! She’s been getting jerked around by this girl yet she’s too stupid to keep putting up with it. She and Andy have what I believe to be a very warped idea of relationships. To them, a bad relationship is better than no relationship. I’d rather be alone than have my head played with like that. If Michelle keeps following in my footsteps like she has been, then she won’t settle down with the right person till she’s in her late 20s (she’s 24 or 25 now), and the person she settles down with just may have a dick attached to it.

Here’s the part that’s funny while it’s not funny. It’s just so Andy. Only he could end up in a situation like this with people like Beth (that’s the shit’s name). Beth is bi and has hit on Andy before. That’s when he learned the truth about Beth and decided he didn’t like her.

Andy, Michelle, and Beth went to Camelback Mountain. The three of them were sitting side by side and at one point Beth asked for a kiss, since Andy’s breath mints make your breath wonderful, as he says. Andy looked at Michelle for a response and got none, so he and Beth made out right there in front of Michelle with her watching.

Then they ended up in Andy’s bed. Everyone had their clothes on, except Beth lost her shirt at some point. Michelle was massaging her while Andy was licking her tits. Then Michelle pulled back and said, “Andy I can’t do this. You’re my friend and you’re a guy. I never wanted a threesome in the first place.” So, Andy apologized and admitted to being vulnerable and susceptible at the moment, cuz he was lonely, horny, and missing Quinn. Quinn, of all scum-sucking waste products! Quinn, I love you for hanging your ass, you little cock!

The van didn’t leave as early as 4:00, but I got a good look at the driver of the van, and it’s the guy I’ve seen living over there. I think I’ve got a better idea as to a headcount over there. At first I thought there were two women, a guy, and God knows how many kids over there, but now I think there’s a woman, a guy, and 4 kids. What is it with me and 4 kids? That cunt Barbara in Norwich had 4 kids, the Mormons had 4 kids, and from what I’ve seen, I’ve got 4 kids on my shoulders again.

All my predictions are ringing true so far, but I have yet to see the dog arrive, cuz I don’t think it’ll be here for another week or two. I just can’t believe how naïve and trusting the city is of its welfare bums!

The van comes and goes a million more times than the cock did, believe it or not. I find it hard to believe all these trips are to get stuff for the house. I don’t know where it’s going or why, or if it’s even legal, but at least these people don’t make such a big production out of it. They hop in the van, then after one or two door slams, they leave. They don’t hang out yelling for 10 minutes and slam doors 8 or 10 times before leaving.

Here’s another van report: Van left at 4:00, van came at 5:00, van left at 7:50, van came at 9:00, van left at 12:30, van came at around 1:00, van left at 2:30, van came at 3:30, van left at 4:45, van came at 4:00, van left at 4:10, van came at 4:30, van left and returned at least once more after 4:30. Yesterday, the van stayed in throughout the morning after returning at 9:00 and was gone at 12:30. I don’t know what time it returned, but it left again at 2:30. Then it made a quick run in and out at 4:00, left again, then came back at around 4:30. This was the last time I checked it before bed, but when I got up, I saw that the van was in a different position, so it had to have made at least one more run after 4:30. This is at least 8 times that I know of, that the van came and went. I just can’t believe this van doesn’t bang in and out! That tells me all the more that compensation from a dog is coming my way. If I can help it, though, that dog won’t be here for more than a week. Then God can go do something else to me. Tom says he doubts there’ll be a dog cuz of the patterns I usually see when I, or a move. It’s when they finally shut up or when I get a quiet neighbor that one of us moves. Well, it has been quiet so far, except for that one bass attack, and the collies. I’m very curious to see how the ranchero comes in the next time it visits. I think it’ll come in with its music much louder (Tom said it was almost as loud as the cock would play his music) cuz you know how people are - always gotta do the opposite of what you ask of them. It’s a human obsession.

Later...

The guy and the woman (I don’t know about any kids) left at 6:50 and returned at 7:11.

It’s not even 9:30 yet and already there have been two sales calls.

I’m getting bored with documenting my dreams, so I’ll just copy in what I’ve got so far, then I’ll just write the ones that really stand out. Here are the dreams I’ve written in from May 12th to June 6th:

I went back east to Massachusetts with Tom. We stayed in a motel and I went outside when it got dark and glanced up at the window above me. I saw that it was dark and assumed no one was staying above us. I remember thinking that Tom wouldn’t be seeing Connecticut or meeting anyone I knew there, due to my not being in touch with Tammy. We ended up in the yard of one of the houses I grew up in and were staying there for a while, apparently. I went out in the yard by myself. There was snow on the ground, even though we went there during the summer. I walked to a big swing set with 4-5 swings that had wicker baskets for seats. I saw a spider web on its bars and went looking for a stick to knock it down with. As I looked down on the ground, I noticed several straws from drinks. A feeling of sadness came over me at some point as I remembered how I only lived in the house 2-3 years before they sent me away. I felt cheated and like I hadn’t gotten to live there long enough. Inside the house, I pictured it set up with our stuff, then ran down the stairs into the living room where Tom was watching TV. Tom loved it there so much and when we were talking to someone about it, I said that if we did stay, it’d only be for a year, since I do love Arizona and newer, more modern places.

While back east, Tom was complaining to me about how the big maxi pad I was wearing bulged out in back. I bitched to him that hey, they were just big pads, so deal with it. It’s a normal fact of life.

A woman was playing a sex game with me, also back east, by rolling dice and touching a certain area of my crotch depending on what the dice said. At some point, I shouted that I was so horny and needed to get off. I couldn’t be teased anymore and she said, “Alright,” and kind of cupped my crotch with her hand.

In some building back east, I saw a young woman who appeared to be in her early 20s and wished I had her looks. I wished I could be just over 5’ like she was, that I was as thin as she was, and had her shorter hair and “simple eyes.” I then realized it was Jessie, who acted as if she didn’t know me.

I was alone at our supposed new home which was still sort of occupied. The people were on their way out, though. It was set up high on a hill-like slope in a crowded city by the ocean. Which ocean and where this was, I don’t know. Despite the congestion, the house was airtight enough that you couldn’t hear outside noise. At some point, people from the disability office were there, obviously doing some sort of evaluation on me. They sat at a large table in the middle of the house, while I was in one of the 3 spare bedrooms playing music. I had at least brought over my stereo, I guess. They called me out at one point to ask a question, then I went to the other end of the house to the master bedroom. Upon entering it, I wondered if it was too big for being just a bedroom, but then I decided that once the bed was in there, it’d look great. Besides, I wanted to sleep in the room that had the bathroom off it. I remember thinking that I hoped the former resident’s housekeeper would move out, since I wanted to live alone with Tom, and since I was used to the fact that if I wanted something done and done right, I had to do it myself or else it wouldn’t get done at all. I walked over to the window and admired the vast ocean view. Tears of happiness stung my eyes at the thought of living here and seeing this view every day. To the left of me, a partial statue that looked like the Statue of Liberty stuck up out of the water a few feet from shore. Then another thing dawned on me and I went out to where the group of disability evaluators sat. I asked them if they were aware of the fact that I wasn’t on disability anymore. They said no. Later on, at dusk, while I was still hanging out at the house by myself, Jim left a message saying that he and Jackie were having a party, but that they’d call later to see if I wanted one of them to pick me up and bring me over to their place for a while. I thought that was just oh so sweet of them that I called there to thank them. I couldn’t get Jackie or Jim to the phone, so I drove over to their house in my new car. Somehow, I knew the way and got there OK. I found Jackie who said, “My party ran later than expected.” I guess I stood there a little while. Then when it came time to leave, I chickened out, doubting I could find my way back safely enough, so Jackie drove me home and I asked if someone would drive my car over later. She said yes.

Apparently, I went to a GYN, who was secretive about the results of my exam. He said something about my needing steroids down there. Then I went and got into Nervous’s van and we agreed that we’d later figure out what I owed him for driving me around.

White people moved next door. I saw two cars, a woman, a man, and a boy around 10 years of age. The woman was coming towards me as I was walking towards our front door. It appeared she wanted to ask me something, but I just kept on walking and ignoring her as if I didn’t see her, not wanting to be associated with neighbors. I shut the door on her as I walked into our living room which was crowded with people.

I was watching what was supposed to be a Gloria music video, but that I also knew was no act. In real life, her son’s about 18, and her daughter’s about 4. In the dream, though, the son was about 8 and the daughter was in her teens. Gloria and her son were sitting on a couch. The daughter was crouched nearby sulking about something. Gloria was verbally coaxing the daughter to sit by her. Eventually, she did. She sat to Gloria’s left while the son was to her right. Then she leaned back against the son, who leaned back too, so that his back was to the couch while Gloria’s back was to his stomach, and she started moving up and down as if to massage the son’s stomach and her back at the same time.

I was waiting at Red Lobster for Tom to meet me there. I got there a long time before he did. At one point, I had to go to the bathroom and as I was walking toward it, I thought I saw Andy, but couldn’t be sure cuz the guy kept moving further away and the room was dimly lit.

I was in what was supposed to be this house, even though it didn’t look like this house. I was looking out our back door which was off a parking lot. A van pulled in and was parking as I shut the door, wondering if the person in the van could be a serial killer or something like that.

This dream had something to do with Tammy and Melanie. Something we were supposed to do for Melanie. A favor maybe? Anyway, I guess we never did it, cuz Mel didn’t seem too happy at one point. Marlee Matlin, the deaf actress, might’ve been in this dream, too.

I was wishing I could keep a schedule so I could get into watching TV series steadily. For some reason, a schedule was necessary for that in this dream.

Something about sucking up cobwebs from the ceiling with a vacuum.

I was at some huge, crowded store wondering how they closed a certain doorway with so many people streaming through it. Then some guy told me a warning beep goes off so people can know to move away.

I was supposed to wake Tom at 4:00. I don’t know if we were going to do fun shopping, errands, or what, but I was pissed when I realized it was past 4:00. I feared it was a whole hour past 4:00, and that he’d be pissed too, but a look at the clock showed I was only 20 minutes late in waking him up.

Tom tried to hide it by pulling an outer blind down outside the living room window, but we got new neighbors. It all began when I heard the obnoxious thump of bass. I went next door and saw that 5 white kids moved in. “Kids,” meaning between 18-20 years old. They had their music blaring away in an upstairs bedroom right by the wall of our house where our bedrooms are. At first, we were all friendly smiles as we introduced ourselves and shook hands, then I mentioned the music and could see by their sudden sulking faces and quiet demeanors that they weren’t too happy about my bringing that up. I knew that it’d take firmness to set them straight so I threatened to have them evicted if they didn’t shut up. Their silence continued. I asked one of the girls what her name was, but she just went slack-jawed, unsure whether or not to answer. She didn’t though. No one said another word from there on out.

Someone at some business, be it a library or something like that, looked on a computer and told me that the blacks weren’t evicted. They just moved on their own.

A cop was stalking me. It started out with him chasing me around a room trying to beat or kill me, but then it turned into a scene on a TV that I and someone else were watching. Tom and I lived on the third or fourth floor of an apartment, I guess, and I was afraid to leave any windows open. At one point I saw the stalker’s car pull up on the street and somehow I knew he was gonna pick the lock of our door and come kidnap me, so I went outside to hide.

I decorated a card with drawings for an old elementary school teacher, Mrs. B.

I was ice skating.

Doe was sitting at a table with some guy crying about something, then looking out a window and commenting on people’s yards. These were yards of people she’d known for a long time.

Michelle, Andy’s friend, kills herself.

I was riding in the backseat of a convertible when I looked up at a tall building and saw it was an FBI building. Then I realized a few FBI agents were sitting in the front seat. They were asking me questions of some sort.

Someone, perhaps myself, killed someone. The dead body was sprawled across a table and a bunch of cops were milling about.

Something about a high-rise. Maybe an apartment building I lived in or a hotel I was staying in? I was walking outside of it when I realized it was already late fall and that we barely had a summer. It barely got up to 100 degrees.

I was psyched cuz Tom and I were going to do some serious shopping in some computer or electronics store. Then a rowdy high school crowd came in, and Chris T, a friend in elementary school, was suddenly there. She got shoved by the crowd and was annoyed.

We were away somewhere and I left Tom in some crowded downstairs room and went upstairs to change my dress for dinner. My ear began making a weird static-like sound. A voice said I better clean my ear, so I started to do that, then to do my hair till Christine McVie walked in and took over brushing my hair.

I was suddenly on a TV set, with who I believe was Roseanne Barr. I was noticing how fat she still was, wearing black. A color I figured they’d put her in.

My legs were stuck in rubber bands as I came awake from sleeping.

Two of the rats had babies. I had someone sex them for me. There were two females/two males. I kept the males.

I was observing someone pull a dead body from the ocean, but later on, I saw this person alive.

Me and a homeless girl whom I was hesitant about taking in as a roommate, stole some nice clothes from a fat lady.

My Bailey doll was undressed. I guess I was washing her clothes. I was looking for her diaper to put back on, but in reality, she doesn’t wear one. Just a sleeper.

Larry left a hateful message on our machine. At first, I was furious but then something about it (I don’t know what) had me cracking up with laughter.

I thought Tom wasn’t home and I wanted to order a pizza. For some reason, I felt I had to sneak it behind his back and keep it a secret, so I was wondering where I’d dispose of the pizza box after I finished the pizza. Instead of dumping it in the dumpster, I decided to dispose of it a few yards down. Just as I was going to call to place the order, I saw that Tom was home.

Tammy, Andy, and I were hanging out someplace. I was bitching to them about being fat and aging quickly.

My dolls had been packed away and undressed for some time. I put a leg back on that fell off of one of my Barbies, then I felt that it would be a good time to take all my dolls out and dress them. Patrice was the only one I couldn’t dress right away. I was in a building several stories up. Just outside the window, a foot away was another building just like the one I was in. Patrice was just inside the window right across from me. I knew I could open the window in the room I was in, reach across, open the window across the way, and pull Patrice across to my side, but it was nighttime, so I didn’t want to risk dropping her since I couldn’t see well.

I was filling up a big square tub in a big bathroom somewhere. I felt I had to pee and walked over to the toilet.

I was lying in a bed, and I don’t know if I had this baby or adopted it, but someone handed me a baby that sort of resembled Bailey with really long hair. Tom was standing to the left of the bed and his mom was sitting near the bed to the right smiling. Dureen was sitting behind her with a watchful, yet blank expression on her face. I tried to tell the baby that they were nana, but then I looked at our moms and said, “She doesn’t get it.” 

Then some woman seated at a desk a few feet behind Tom, suggested a mold of the baby be made so I could use it to practice handling her properly.

I was looking through a phonebook and found Doe and Art’s current number and email address. In this phonebook, there were about 15 pages of family pictures, mostly of Tammy.

I was out just as the crack of dawn was setting in, roaming around a hillside at the beach I spent my summers at, only it didn’t look like that beach at all. I went indoors and suddenly, the 2-story cottage had no front wall. A carload of guys was slowly cruising by. The driver spotted me in one of the front rooms and moved back into a hallway where a closet was supposed to be, but then I realized he’d just back up the car and see me cuz there was no wall, and that’s what he did.

Tammy and I were at some beach or lake sitting on the shore.

Someone was showing someone the proof of someone’s kidnapping and explaining how they were kidnapped.

I was videotaping my so-called long-haired cat who looked like a dog. I was planning on sending Dureen and Art a copy of this video and I was wondering if they’d think this cat was really a dog.

I heard bass softly thumping and I opened the front door to find 3 full carloads of the black bitch’s associates. Guess they came back to live next door.

I went to Florida to see my parents, I guess. I don’t know if Tom was with me. I don’t remember seeing Art in this dream, just Dureen. I was sitting at a table with her and some others. She asked us if we needed anything. I said that just turning up the AC would be good enough for me, and she did. Then she was showing me the rest of the place and it dawned on me that it was similar to the same manufactured home we were looking to get. I remember thinking to myself that I’d just be cool, cuz I’d be disappearing and they’d never see me again after our visit.

I was in a private school that was several stories. A staff member kept asking me to take a test I’d already taken. We were in some huge kitchen with slanted skylights at a long picnic-like table that was filled with several girls or women and we were eating cheesecake. Then at one point, I was climbing out of a pool with two other girls who admired my really long hair.

I was dancing with somebody who was trying to give me these slurping, disgusting kisses.

Tammy told me she was using coke regularly.

I beat up some girl.

I took a journal that was half full of writing and gave it to Melanie. I’m not sure if I was going to leave the last half of it blank for her to use, or if I’d written something just for her in the last half, but anyway, right before I was going to give it to her, I realized I better check the first half in case there was anything there I didn’t want her to see. After checking it, I saw that they were mostly drawings.

Tom and I moved into our new house which may’ve been somewhere back east. This is because the house was huge and old, especially huge. We were on our way to go gambling. Tom asked me if I was excited about it. I said yes, but that knowing we weren’t destined to ever really win anything dampened some of the excitement. He went to wait for me in the car. I was in the kitchen and I remembered that I had reminded myself to look for a good spot for the garbage pail. I scanned the room and decided on a spot and planned to tell Tom when I got into the car that I found a spot in our perfect kitchen for the pail. I left the kitchen and entered the long, huge living room, heading for the door. Then I saw a light on at the opposite end of the room that I felt should be turned off. The living room was so huge that it was quite a jog down to where this light was. Some other day we went back to the old house. I don’t know why, but I saw that we left my wind chimes there and other outdoor things. We left stuff in the attic, too. As I was realizing this while standing out in the backyard, I saw that the people with the collies two yards down were having a huge party and were using next door’s yard too, since there was still no one living there. A kid would pop up every few seconds from behind the block wall and blow through a harmonica at me.

"Shauna" and I were talking about how she could afford to take a month or two off from work to go on a cross-country drive, which she said she’d been wanting to do.

I started some job in Maine and was filling out a questionnaire. One of the questions asked if I liked living in Maine. My boss reminded me she wanted me to wait an hour after work so she could do some treatment on me (connected to my female parts?) and I was wondering if the buses would still be running when we got done. I knew Doe would be home, believe it or not, so I made a mental note to call her for a ride when I could go home.

I was going up and down an elevator in a 6-story building. I got off on the 6th floor and found myself surrounded by fall foliage. When I tried to leave, I couldn’t find the elevator or any other exit.

I was showing Dureen my dolls.

A cop was sadly saying how he found some well-known actress had committed suicide.

Later...

The van left again at 9:50 and I don’t know when it returned, but it’s here now.

Yesterday, I was feeling a little bummed. Fortunately, I rarely feel that way these days, but it was mainly cuz of how long things are taking. I’ve been waiting to move to a house like we want that’s outside of the city for years now. Tom cheered me up, though, then we went to a couple of stores. Also, the frustration of being tight constantly was bringing me down, tiring me out.

I got some more books and some pet food.

Tom saw them cleaning the carpet across the street and thinks they’re gonna try to re-rent the house, rather than sell it. That’s too bad. I had hoped they’d sell it, but hey, we shouldn’t have too many more months to go. In fact, my move date vibe changed from the middle of October to early September. Tom still thinks we’ll move in July or August. Late August is possible, but I don’t know.

Tom’s picking up paint tomorrow.

I’ll really be looking forward to going back to Cigna when we move. I hate Intergroup. It may be more crowded, and the co-pay is higher, but it’ll be worth it to have doctors that are more dependable, all in one building, along with a pharmacist right in the building too, where I can get 3 months’ worth of refills at a time, rather than one refill at a time.

This time around the pain went away faster than it did the other months I had that pain in the lower right side of my gut. Guess it helps to have the cranberry juice on hand.