November 1997 in 1990s

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1997
I guess I’ll do some writing now. Let’s see…Mary and Dave came over to get Tom’s bed. I was asleep while they were here, but Tom showed them the animals. I’m glad that they finally got to see them and the way things are now set up. Especially Mary.

Ma gave us one of her recliners and this thing isn’t just a recliner. It’s a massage recliner. The seat and the back vibrate. It’s really nice and we needed it, too, cuz the recliner that goes with this couch has really fallen apart. It’s out on the patio till it’s time for the city to pick it up (we’ll have to look on the calendar to see when that is) and the cats are using it for now at night.

Speaking of cats, we discussed getting a trap to trap Mama Cat and then bringing her to wherever. That way we won’t have to deal with so many litters and I won’t miss this wild, mean bitch of a cat.

That we know of, they still haven’t been a problem as far as loud music is concerned but I heard other sounds at 11:30. It was the sound of plastic and metal scraping along their back patio. Something big and plastic, too, but the metal might’ve been the dog’s chain. I got the impression that whoever it was, was pissed and hoping to wake someone up over here, but who knows? I also still have my doubts as to the city contacting them. I think that as soon as they got the letter, it went into the garbage.

I changed the mice’s setup around again a while ago and what a cute show Tom missed! The babies were all bouncy, hyper and playful. It was so cute and as for the adults, Ziggy’s a playful one, too, and jumps around when she’s happy like Bunny and Spunky do. Unfortunately, I’m not as happy as my animals are. I haven’t full-flowed yet, but have upgraded to spots and a bit more cramping. The thing about it is the reality of knowing that there’s no way I could be pregnant and that I will have a full flow within the next 24-48 hours. God, why must you torture, control and deprive me of following my dream and my every instinct!? When it comes to something more than just hobbies, pets and marriage, can we ever agree on what I want? Like I said, if I woke up wanting to do anything else just as bad, God would see to it that I couldn’t do it.

This really, really is gonna be how the rest of my life is gonna be. This really is gonna be an issue all my life and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. My husband will always stall and make excuses for why we should wait to see a doctor. There’s always one more thing we’ve got to give a chance. One more thing that’s just got to be the answer. Well, this is bullshit and I’m sick of it. And he’s not the only one afraid of a doctor. We’re just afraid for different reasons. He doesn’t want to go to a doctor cuz he doesn’t really want a kid or to discuss our sexual relations with strangers. I’m afraid of what God would do to me for going against him and I’m also virtually certain that there’s nothing they could do for us. First of all, they couldn’t make Tom cum regularly. Secondly, if they could make me pregnant by some procedure, how can they make me stay that way for 9 months?

I feel totally alone here. I feel as if Tom just doesn’t want to deal with it and never has and never will. All he does is tell me year after year that things will work out and where are we now? Just where we’ve always been. The only change is that he’s cum occasionally for the last year and a half, and we share a bed. That’s better than nothing, but it’s not enough. And I still say that he could cum every day, but - something’s wrong with me. Even though he hasn’t cum but maybe 15 times, those 15 shots and all the years of precum should’ve done the trick by now. Nobody could miss it like this if they tried.

When they begin fertility testing on a woman, they usually start by sticking a dye up there. I don’t know what this dye is supposed to test, but usually, that’s all you need. If I heard right, the most common cause of infertility in women is clogged fallopian tubes. I’m not stupid, though, and I know my problem goes way beyond just clogged fallopian tubes. God will do anything and everything to ensure I never have a child.

Even if it does get easier with time, it’s still hard enough and it eases up so gradually. I feel like it’ll take 10 years to pass by before I can really live with it without it getting me down once every month or two like it does.

Tom just got up, so I feel a bit better. He reminded me that the primary reason for us switching insurance, as well as getting the bed, was so that we could do something if we need to, but meanwhile, let’s just have fun throughout December. It sounds good, but I’ve heard things like this before.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1997
Just when I think my periods are out of new tricks to pull, they pull new ones. The night before last, I had faint, light, microscopic beginnings of a period. The kind that is even smaller and less apparent than spots. They’re more like a milky reddish-pink color and you really have to strain your eyes to see any of these kinds of spots. Well, never has my period tried to begin, then had 48 hours go by without a full flow by then. I had had cramps, too, but even those have eased up. My boob soreness has eased up a bit, but not much. I wish I could say it was a baby and that God never did intend to deny us a child and that he was just waiting for the right time and that the sudden ability to quit smoking and the new bed really was a stage set for a baby after all, but dreams are just that - dreams.

Speaking of the bed, though, I had been all bummed out and frustrated, feeling like we made a mistake and that it could never work out. Tom said that it’ll take time, but that I’ll adjust to sleeping in it together and I guess he was right on that one. He got into bed with me already asleep in it and didn’t wake me up!

Thank you, freeloader. I was just about to forget to update him, but he just reminded me to with a good, deliberate, hard slam of his car door. As far as we know, there hasn’t been any music, but again, is this cuz of the dog? Cuz of some other reason? Cuz of the city letter? I highly doubt the city contacted them and I still don’t think they ever will. Either way, though, the music will be a problem again, as always, in just a matter of time. That’s when I’ll make my final move and never have to worry about it again and it’ll never be a problem again.

Andy went out of his way to make an extra trip over here, which was nice. I had thought we wouldn’t exchange stuff till we saw each other again. However, he dropped off some coffee coupons and some clothes Laura didn’t want and put them out back while I was asleep. The clothes were mostly tank tops and halters and I like just about all 10 pieces or so, except for a couple of sweaters.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1997
I was pleasantly wrong when I said it’d be a not-too-peaceful day. It’s been quite peaceful and I slept just fine. The freeloaders actually went elsewhere for Turkey Day. I heard them come in at 10:30 PM (no music). I’m just glad Thanksgiving isn’t in the summer, cuz then they probably would party hearty. I used to like the summers best of all cuz it’d drive everyone indoors but not these freeloaders. They’re out and about more when it’s hot and their dog will bark more, too, when the summer nights return.

Tom set up the satellite dish and I really like this Direct TV a lot. It’s really cool and you set up things on a screen that’s a lot like a computer. It is simpler for the most part, but there are so many different things you can do and so many different ways to do them. My favorite part of it is the ’70s and ’80s commercial-free radio stations. On-screen it says the title/artist, but I run audio tapes on his stereo that’s hooked up to it and record stuff. Then I screen them and pick out anything I may want.

I asked Tom, “So, is this gonna be my last period for about a year?”

He said, “That’s what I th-yes.”

Well, that sounds awfully unsure and suspicious. I know he’s full of shit, but anyway, my period hasn’t shown up for real, if you know what I mean, but I’m sure it’ll be more than a faint spot or two when I next wake up.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1997
Had another weak/spoiled spell a little while ago, but as with cigarette cravings, baby cravings pass, too, if you tough them out. Like my mother has to believe the DES saved my life for her mental peace of mind, I have to believe I don’t deserve a child. In a way, this is true, though. I’m blessed with enough things so what’s to say I really do deserve one? I also have to believe that God does know best and is doing what’s right and that he’s not just punishing me. I have to believe he’s just looking out for me and doing what would be in the best interest of any child we could’ve ever had. So when it gets tough, I just tell myself that I’m not worthy of it, nor could I have ever handled it.

Speaking of babies (all mice deserve babies over a few of us humans, huh?), one of Ziggy’s babies wandered out of the burrow. I picked it up for a while and am calling it Spot since its tail has a few faint spots on it.

I guess Teddy Bear’s getting old. He came down earlier, but he wheels less and less and spends the bulk of his time sleeping his life away up in his high-rise.

Later…

See? The desire to have a child is getting less and less and not lasting as long when they do come. I feel much better. I just reminded myself of what my life would be like with a child and what a shitty mother I’d be, and now I feel better. It’s been the longest time since I’ve shed tears over it. Just when it seemed like it would never get easier to deal with and stay that way, it finally is. Meaning, since knowing Tom, I’d say that fall of this year, was when it started getting noticeably easier. It’ll keep getting easier with each year, too. I still intend to be strong and be totally over it someday, too. Lastly, I must really, really love my husband. I already forgive him for the pregnant-in-December-for-sure lie.

I told Tom about yesterday morning’s barking fit and how the dog ran down the end of the driveway, but he doesn’t think the leash is extended that far. He thinks that the only reason I saw the dog was cuz it got loose and that it can’t reach our house. Well, maybe they do keep it in the yard at night after all, cuz the freeloader didn’t park his car deep into the carport tonight. I peeked out and saw its tail end sticking out of the carport and if there was a dog leashed to it, I didn’t see it.

Later…

I’m kind of bummed out right now. You could say it’s part PMS, part life.

God seems to want me to only sleep straight through for a few days at a time, then I gotta get woken up. Just 3 hours into my sleep, Tom accidentally woke me up as he was setting up the satellite for Direct TV. His end of it was an accident, but how much God-influence was there? After a while and two Benadryl’s, I fell back asleep. He woke me up again when it was his bedtime, but I had had enough sleep by then. I know that his climbing into bed after me is gonna wake me up, but if only I could know that I could go back to sleep. I don’t think I can and furthermore, I’ll be woken up numerous times after that when he moves and snores. I kind of think this bed was a mistake and that we threw away $1000 when what we should’ve done was get two twin beds and lay them side by side. Maybe normal isn’t so nice after all.

I guess that if there are any signs or messages in the fact that I’ve been woken up more in the last few weeks than I have in the whole year, it’s God reminding me that I could never handle getting up every hour for a baby, so don’t think that just cuz I quit smoking, he’s gonna change his mind and reward me with that. Oh, there’s no way in hell I could handle having to constantly get up for a crying baby (even though I still kind of wish he’d let me have a kid and make me be able to handle it), but still, that choice should’ve been mine. Maybe I’d have been wise enough to do the right thing on my own and not get pregnant, but God never even gave me that choice. Instead, he made my decisions for me, as far as if I’ll ever have a kid.

Speaking of rewards, well, I know this will sound selfish, but I was hoping that God would give me some kind of reward for quitting smoking. Quitting smoking is the hardest thing I ever did. It’s a daily challenge that I’ll have to live with every day for the rest of my life if I continue not to smoke. I understand he can’t give me a child for it, but what about letting me be thin again? What about being a heavier sleeper, so I could sleep through more noise and Tom’s movements? What about a better and full-time sex life? It’s like he just doesn’t care. He hasn’t even noticed that I’ve quit smoking.

Another thing on my mind is Tom. How can anyone be so loving and be such a bold and casual liar at the same time? Knowing my husband’s about to hurt me yet again with his lies, is something I’m used to, but I still don’t like it. A part of it is my fault, too, for letting him set me up to play me for the fool that I’ll be throughout December. When it comes to certain things, my husband will always say what I want to hear, even if it’s bullshit.

Not that I’d ever have the guts to see a doctor about my sterility since you can’t fight fate, but it still hurts me to know that Tom will always be in denial and won’t admit that there’s a problem with the sex and with me physically, and therefore, I’d never have had the slightest shot at a child, anyway. What I don’t know is - what’s he gonna change his “everything will work out and we’ll have a kid” line to when I’m out of my childbearing years? Let me guess - it’ll be - “There was just no opportunity!”

I wonder something, too. Could Tom be taking any kind of spermicide drugs? I can’t think of what he could take while keeping it discreet from me, but you never do know.

I wish to hell my schedule was on days. Those freeloaders are never gonna let me sleep tomorrow!

Later…

My period is just beginning so I won’t be feeling so out of it for too much longer. Boy, God just does not want us to hit it right for sure! I know, I know, I couldn’t handle it anyway and he doesn’t want to help me be able to handle it, let alone be able and allowed to conceive.

The HS sent more address labels. A couple of different dog pictures and a couple of different cat pictures.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1997
Yup, these fuckaroos next door are definitely afraid of someone. And they’re afraid for their physical selves a lot more than the house. Cuz if they were afraid for the house, they could have the dog be able to reach all points of the house during the daytime, too, but instead, they have it in the backyard only. At night, it’s chained to the car and it can reach just about all 4 sides of their house and I was wrong when I said it couldn’t. Get it? As if to keep someone they fear away from them.

Although these are the kinds of people that tend to attract many enemies, the only one I can think of that they could be afraid of is me. It’s been said that when I verbally let someone have it, that’s scary enough with my loud, viscous mouth and my temper being the way it is, and this dog first arrived right after I screamed at them last summer. So they didn’t just get the dog to piss me off, they got it for protection.

At 6:30 AM it went on a barking spree and for the second time that I know of, it went charging down the driveway, then came back up again. Shortly after, I heard a car door that suggested they put it in the backyard for the day.

Well, the knowledge that it could roam the front wall of our house if it wanted to scares the shit out of me and I wonder just how legal this is, too. I also wonder if there’s some other reason for this besides any fear they could have. Are they hoping it bites us? Or are they trying to make it more tempting for me to hurt the dog so they can go to court? Well, if it came on our property and hurt us here, we have a right to kill it.

Thank God I’m caught up on my sleep, since Thursday’s Turkey Day. He lives here, that’s a holiday, which means it’s gonna be anything but peaceful around here.

Later…

The Sony Satellite dish came today and I got another 80s CD, too.

Boy did I count wrong! I couldn’t see Shy’s babies too well in the burrow that they’re in and with the adults sitting on them. However, I got a glimpse of them just now and there are way more than two babies. More like 6 babies! And Cocoa’s definitely next. She’s starting to show now and is having trouble climbing.

We could have mice for the rest of our lives at this point.

Ziggy’s two are starting to move around now, but they haven’t wandered out of the burrow yet.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1997
Shy had her babies. It looks like there are two of them, but I can’t tell for sure and I don’t want to go poking around and disturbing them. Same rule applies - gotta leave them alone for a couple of weeks. This is perfect timing, though, since I just cleaned their cages. I could work around them, though, like I just did. As when Ziggy had her two, Cocoa and Ziggy are helping Shy out and they’re all cleaning them and sitting on them to keep them warm in shifts. Shy had hers where Ziggy’s babies are. I thought she’d either have them there or in the maze. Anyway, if they want them moved, they can pick their tails up in their mouths and move them. The first batch is really starting to look like teeny tiny mice now and their eyes are just starting to open.

There’s no way I could be blessed with these babies being females like the adults are, so I’ll have to do some decision-making in a couple of weeks. Even though their living quarters could hold 100 mice, more like 15-20 mice are enough for me and would be nice, but I’ll have to keep it at just the 3 adults, plus whatever babies are female, and give the males to pet stores. Or maybe we can let the population grow to 15-20, then give to pet stores anything else after that. If I did that, though, the fathers would have to be separated from the babies cuz they’d eat them. Gross!

I just realized something about the freeloader. Naturally, I know that the reason why I’m not seeing a car there overnight since the dog’s return is cuz it’s deep in the carport cuz the dog’s rigged to it. Its leash, according to Tom is about 25’ long. Well, I was wondering how in one bark it could sound like it was in the carport, then sound like it wasn’t in the next bark. Well, it’s become obvious that only when they’re asleep, they’ve got it rigged to the car, but not with just a few feet of slack like it did when I went off about its 2 AM fit. Now it’s got an extension. Not 25’, of course, cuz then it could reach our doorstep and they certainly wouldn’t want that. However, they’ve got it so that it can just get to the front wall of their house. This is something they’ve never done till after the screaming match, so maybe I’m not the only one who’s not living in peace. Maybe they fear me doing something to the house or the dog and feel safer if the dog can cover more wall space of the house. Or they may want me to do something, as I said, to have an excuse to drag me into court. They can’t care that much about this dog and them ditching it cuz of the work they did over there is another thing proving that (unless she’s not supposed to have a dog), cuz they could’ve kept it in the house, then taken it out front or down the street to do its job. Anyway, maybe they really are afraid of me and just like I live in stress cuz of them, they live in fear cuz of me.

I hear the mice squeaking now. Yes, they make those sounds, too, but it’s more like a soft, high chirp actually.

My tits are so, so sore and I’m glad I only have 4-6 days before I get some relief. Of course, if I get relief on Saturday when no fertile woman should who has a guy get off in her 14 days prior like I did, Tom will still be running around saying everything’s OK. Fine. Let him.

Later…

The more I think about this fuck-up for a mailman we’ve got, the more I wonder if the Nicorette people will cancel the next two things I’m supposed to get in the mail or not. All cuz of someone’s lack of caring and hastiness to not read properly. So that’s what he’s doing now, huh? Instead of giving us other people’s mail, he’s giving other people our mail.

Later…

Some lonely dude, desperate for attention went blaring down the street so incredibly loud a couple of hours ago. Even louder than next door.

I’m pleased to say that I did get what I was supposed to get from the Nicorette Company today after all. I guess I was a week off in assuming when it’d be here. Anyway, it said: Congratulations Jodi, you made it 6 weeks! It also had tips on cutting back on the Nicorette gum.

I talked to Paula a couple of days ago, too, who was telling me how condemned it was where she was living when she was living in Puerto Rico. Justin’s father is from there, so they lived out there for a few months. The father’s back in the States now, too.

I’ve still been getting fairly regular messages from my folks, which is nice. She’s gonna be sending Tom out something soon.

I offered my parents the address and number at Mary’s and she said to send it, so I did. They know, though, that the house hasn’t been sold yet and that she’s not completely moved into Mary’s yet. When Ma does put the house up for sale, it should go fast, cuz she’s not asking for much for it. It’s a tiny rundown place, anyway, and just like Oswego Street was in Puerto Rico, her place is in Mexico. It’ll almost certainly be a Mexican family with 9 little kids that’ll move into her place, so I hope she’s not gung-ho about having Tom fix up too much of it. A Mex will take anything and besides, they’ll only tear the place up.

Again I woke up at 113, but I know I’m not gonna be losing weight. First off, I just don’t “feel” like I’m going to and second off, the way it fluctuates from 113-115 tells me I won’t. Usually, when I go to lose weight, it drops to whatever and stays there for a while. Then it drops again to stay for a while, and on and on. However, I’m just bouncing back and forth on a steady plateau.

When I look at how Cocoa’s looking lately, I wonder if there’ll be any more “mice droppings” but we’ll see.

I began to have a spoiled/weak spell yesterday about the kid I’ll never have. It’s sort of like cigarette cravings, though, and if I just tough it out, it’ll pass. Just like the reality of why I shouldn’t smoke helps me, the reality that I could never handle a child helps me, too.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1997
That fucking mailman! Never have I had such a mail problem in all the places I’ve lived. During week 6 of quitting smoking, I was supposed to get another mailing from the Nicorette company, but I never got it.

Anyway, to get the freeloaders updated and out of the way first, the music hasn’t been much of a problem yet and the dog’s been better than expected. This is all subject to change, I know. That dog came in here as not much of a big deal, then became a big deal, and is now back to being more tolerable.

I am not looking forward to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s around here. Cuz he’ll be next door, it’ll be wild with visitors. Last year was peaceful, but that’s cuz he wasn’t living here for those holidays.

Andy and Michelle came to get the waterbed today and tentatively, Mary will be getting the other bed next Saturday.

The security door’s here too, but of course it’ll be a month or more before Tom can put it up. Things have been hectic, and there are never enough hours in at least Tom’s day. He’s also always tired still and complains of something new hurting him every day. All this has me more and more comfortable with my sterility and with the fact that my husband’s a joker. I am getting - shall I say - to like myself as a whole more and more. As I learn to accept and like myself, sterility and all, I feel more confident as a sterile/childless woman. More so than I have since knowing Tom.

As I may have said before, I may wonder periodically throughout our lives what life with a child would’ve been like (except for the obvious parts of that), and I may still want a child to a degree, but I have enough responsibilities and he has more than enough, and I want him to be as happy as he can be. I also think that people should have some things that they want, be it a little or a lot, that they just can’t get. Cuz that way, it keeps us from becoming too spoiled/selfish, to not have everything we’ve ever wanted. People like the sick fucks next door must be used to having most everything their way.

Our schedules are still opposite each other so we haven’t really slept together yet, so I don’t know if it’ll work out well. I don’t expect it to be fun, therefore, I may not bother to try to always be on his schedule. That way, I can catch up on my sleep when his schedule’s different than mine.

Friday night we went out to Old America where I got two puzzles and two more drawing books to use as demos. Since I’m naturally good at things like flowers and cartoon characters, and am not as good at people and realistic animals, these are the things that the books pertain to.

Shy’s gonna drop babies any second now, so I created a really neat setup for all the mice and T-Bear. T-Bear now lives with the big guys. I have a strip of solid wood that I’ve got going across the hutch. Resting on this is the smallest Play City cage. On one side of it, I have a hideaway and a high-rise stemming off. On the other side, is a long tube that goes down into the hutch where the big wheel is. The tube goes behind Spunky’s burrow, making it less accessible for the big guys to chew on.

I moved the babies under a burrow in the cage that is above the aquarium. I thought that they’d all be comfier there and there I can get a stable water supply. I can also get a stable water supply in the other cage, but not in the aquarium. The Velcro that’s supposed to hold the bottle holder to the corner sides is just too worn out.

I also shredded paper and put clumps in each corner of the maze and it was so cool how they dragged it all to the center of it. I did this so that Shy would have a nest of her own to use for her babies if she wanted to.

Cocoa and Ziggy move around to all parts of their 3 houses and maze, but Shy won’t be getting around till she delivers.

Is this nose of mine ever gonna feel the effects of not smoking as my lungs have? Better to have clearer lungs than a clearer nose. I know it’s allergy season out here and it’s better than wheezing like hell, but my nose is really no different than when I smoked.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1997
Something must be going on a few blocks or so away. It sounds like a fucking kennel out there.

The freeloader is up to his usual shit. Slowly building up his music volume. Typical freeloader never fails, does he? He’s quiet for 3 days after he’s asked to lower his music and then it’s back to the same old shit. No wonder so many people hate freeloaders. They just don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves.

He left at noon with it at a mediocre volume, but I know that by this weekend it’ll be blaring and he’ll sit and play it in the driveway.

I told Tom just two weeks is all he’s getting. Then when nothing solves the problem, I will. In a way, this is my fault too, cuz I should’ve taken care of this problem nearly two years ago when it began. Like I said, when it comes to accomplishing some things in life, it’s up to us and us alone to accomplish them.

Up till yesterday, it seemed like we had swapped off here. The dog hasn’t been that big of a problem yet, but my hopes of not having to deal with both the music and the dog were obviously a waste of time. I wondered if it could have anything to do with the city contacting them, but no way. First of all, the city’s either never going to contact them about it, or they’ll just turn around and respond to us saying there’s nothing they can do. Secondly, even if it were possible that the city could and would do something about it, it would take a while.

The bottom line is this - the city can’t stand guard in their driveway all the time to make sure the music’s down or that he isn’t living there, but I can come close to doing that. I don’t give a shit whether or not he lives there. All I give a shit about is the music.

A couple of days ago, Tom bought us a few goodies. We got a new VCR, but the satellite dish hasn’t arrived yet. When it does, though, I won’t have to go through the hassles of programming anymore when I want to set up the timer to record something. All I’ll have to do is select what I want to record from the screen.

He also got some new dusters for me, since the ones we had got old and grubby. This set is really cool too, cuz it has a handle you can attach to two of the dusters to reach up high. The two regular-size ones are red and purple and then there’s a little pink duster.

He got a pool brush for when we clean the sides of the pool.

We got another sound machine for the back room. This one’s a little different but has basically the same sounds. The only thing I don’t like about it is that it’s not very loud.

He fixed his ma’s car yesterday. Till that one or his breaks down again in a month or so.

Later…

Another thing Tom picked me up the other day was a thing called Fen-Fen. It’s supposed to be an all-natural appetite suppressant. So far it does seem to be curbing my hunger, and I’ve gone from 116 to 113, but I’m certainly not gonna get my hopes up about it yet.

Now for the best news yet - the bed got here! Finally! We still haven’t slept together yet, cuz our schedules don’t match up, but last night was the first time in several nights that I slept 8 hours. I did wake up to pee once, but I fell right back asleep. So, the bed’s really nice, but I’m not sure how sleeping together will go. Yes, it’s much more stable than a regular bed, but it’ll still take getting used to. It’s great to be able to just walk right up to the bed, instead of having to get onto it at the foot of it or by climbing over another bed.

It was a real pain in the ass to drain the waterbed and it also took a couple of hours to set up this new one, so we had our work cut out for us.

I don’t have my side too soft, cuz then when I sit up, my ass is on the decking below it. I have it in between and I also put the foam pad on that had been on the waterbed. I like smoothness as well as softness and this bed’s mattress is a little lumpy.

Anyway, this Sunday Andy and Michelle will be coming over in her ma’s truck to get the waterbed and give us the door. At least, I think it’ll be this Sunday.

This was just all talk at this point, but according to Tom, there’s a place called New River just outside of Phoenix that might be a good place for us to live. It’s weird here, but the further out you live, the cheaper it is. So, we could get a chunk of land that’d be cheaper than this place and it wouldn’t matter how big the town grew since they can’t build up to within a few feet away from us. We may have to take a dumpy house with it, but in time we could maybe build our own.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1997
Let me get the better or trivial things out of the way before I get to the shitty news.

I called to say hi to Paula, but there was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. The kid wouldn’t be there now.

Andy still leaves his daily 3-minute messages, which is the maximum each message can be, telling me how much he loves his job. I’m happy for him. Now that he’s got the car and job, I hope he gets the guy, but I don’t know.

I talked to Tammy a little while ago and she hasn’t quit smoking, but I told her to keep trying.

We went and played miniature golf yesterday. As usual, he kicked my ass, but we had fun.

Then we went to the library. It was a branch neither of us had been to before and it was weird looking. It was quite noisy, too, what with the handicapped people there. I don’t know if they had MD, or if they were retarded, had autism or what, but they were kind of loud with their hoots and howls. I got 5 books since I’m picky about what I read. The first one I tried, I couldn’t get into, but the second one’s great.

I was just out feeding the cats and refilling the cats and Bunny’s water supply. They’re all getting braver by the day, but of course, White Feet’s still the bravest and the friendliest and she even took a treat out of my hand the other day. I also play with the kittens, too, with yarn and balls.

Ma sent a message about her and Dad’s trip. I guess they were unfortunate enough to have to spend most of it with leg pain and arthritis pain and on the phone with their suppliers.

My other Mom has decided that that’s it, she’s ready to move. So she’s getting rid of a lot of her stuff and yes, the house will be sold at some point. I’m happy that she made this decision and is able to see that she just can’t live alone anymore. I’m sure that her moving into Mary’s and selling the house will make it easier for everyone.

From what I hear, Ma’s sister Margaret is still up to her same old crazy shit. She had to sleep in the tub with the water running on her feet, to ward off evil spirits.

The letter to the city went out yesterday and Tom did a fantastic job with it. Even though I know that nothing will come of this letter, especially anything good, it was so very well written. In fact, he did a much better job than I could’ve done.

OK, here’s the shitty news, even though I knew this was coming - it’s back. The fucking beast next door has returned and now I can kiss the peaceful nights goodbye. See, I don’t trust Tom when it comes to next door. He said that he was sure the dog wouldn’t come back, so when he says that, and that they’re not deliberately pissing me off, and that there’s something that can be done about the music and the dog too, I don’t buy it. In the end, the only person who can do something about the dog and music will be me. The dog’s return, however, may curb the music somewhat. Remember, by them and by God, it has to be one or the other. I wondered when he blared that music so incredibly loud a few days ago if he were trying to tell me something. He was trying to tell me that the dog would be returning. Then he escalated the music till making the switch back to the dog. I don’t know if he won’t stick me with both this time, but we’ll see. Yes, I still would take the dog over the music since the dog couldn’t wake me up, but this shit’s bad enough. I’m so fucking sick of these people and this city. I love Arizona and yes, this city’s got a lot of nice things about it that puts Springfield to shame, but I’ve also come to hate this city with a passion. Here, you either live in houses a few feet apart or out in nowhere land. There’s no happy medium. It really sucks that if you live in a house out here, and if you’re neighbors want a dog as part of their lives, it has to be a part of your life, too. I can’t look forward to my dusk-to-dawn peace anymore when I’m up at those times. That’s all gone now. It’s daytime now, so the fucking beast is quiet, but dogs don’t break routines too easily (look how long it took the guard dogs to quit their late-night barking) and I know that from around 6 PM-2 AM, it’s gonna be non-stop barking. If only these dogs could do their barking on the same shift, but not a chance. Each dog has their own way, and trust me, when the guard dogs can’t be heard, it’ll be next door’s turn to bark, and vice versa. Tom says that in a week or two tops, the night barking will stop and by the time it gets hot again, it’ll be settled in and will be no worse than the guard dogs. Bull fucking shit. I’m sorry. I love my dear hubby, but he’s dead wrong.

Anyway, the depression, anger, and frustration over it, can really have me stressed. I have to have fans on all night cuz these freeloaders say so and cuz they have to force their dog on me. And God won’t let me fight back, either. If I were to stick a source of noise on them that was 3 feet away from them or wake them up, I’d get holy hell for it from God and have my sleep taken away and have more things go wrong, but meanwhile, they can do whatever the fuck they want to me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

I know now that they’re not moving. Not for a very long time, anyway. Each day my feelings get stronger and the weaker any vibe gets about them moving. They ain’t going anywhere.

It’s quite a coincidence that even though I knew this dog would return, it returns the same day Tom sends a letter about the music. As if God’s reminding me that if I fuck with him/fate, I’ll be compensated and made to pay for it. If there was such a thing as this letter being effective with the music, they’d just go out and get more dogs, with God’s help. Or they’d just have to have more company and maybe use that basketball hoop some more.

Later…

When I mentioned that I’ll be getting a period in two weeks that I shouldn’t be getting, Tom said, “Who said anything about November? I told you December and that hasn’t changed, so there should be no question about getting a period in two weeks.”

There shouldn’t be? Does he know something I don’t? I’m sorry, but any normal woman who got a squirt when I did, should more than likely be pregnant. But I’m not pregnant and I’d like to know how many more years it’ll take for Tom to see the reality of the situation. And I’d also like to know how and why he can sound so sure about this December crap. I mean he really, really sounds so damn sure of himself. Has he gone that much further into denial, or does he really know something I don’t? Has he really held back all this time, just waiting for what he thought would be a great time to squirt like hell? If so, I’d rather that that be the case, than this yearly denial thing. His knowing the truth won’t undo the truth, but it’d still help me, nonetheless. This doesn’t mean I’d ever have the guts to see a doctor about it, cuz I know what God would do to me if I got by him (not that this is something I could get by God on). I still say it’s what my gut instinct first told me - he’s afraid to cum much cuz he fears a child. Therefore, we can’t worry about my being afraid to see a doctor when he won’t cum but once every few months anyway. He’s much too smart to be naïve, so I’d say he’s pulling my leg about the bed being a magic cure and he knows it, too.

Still, what the hell is going on here? I just wish I knew what was really going through Tom’s mind and heart. Well, the bed should be here this week, so it’s just a matter of time now that I’ll be seeing just whatever it is that he’s gonna do. That is if that bed makes it here for sure without any more stalling.

Later…

Tom went to bed a little while ago and I began my new exercise plan, which I’ll explain after.

As far as how I knew the beast was back. Well first of all, when houses are just a few feet apart from one another and no one takes their dogs indoors, it’s no secret for more than 5 minutes, but I knew it before I heard it. Yesterday afternoon at around 4:00 I heard the little girl and the asshole in the backyard. Knowing they were not big on cooler weather and that it was a very odd time to be having company, I knew they had to be setting up stuff for the dog, like food and water. And then I heard it bark away. I looked out front expecting to not be able to see the car and I got what I expected. He’s gonna park deep in the carport again. Especially at night, so they can rig the thing up to the car in regard to me. Yup, these assholes really want to instigate shit and provoke me. Well, when I can convince Tom of how useless the letter will be, they’ll get what they want from me, only much much worse.

My vibes when it comes to them are pretty darn accurate. I guess we all have our weak spots and our hot spots when it comes to vibes, but like with the kid, I seem to be right on mostly when it comes to these sick fucks. So, trust me when I say that the letter’s already either in the garbage or filed away somewhere way out of the way, they’ll be here for quite a while longer, and that the dog and music will be a problem unless I do something about it myself.

I asked Tom if the city decided not to ignore the letter and if we’re right about how he’s not supposed to be there if he thought he’d end up leaving. He said yes, for a while. That’s true. The for a while part. I’m sure it won’t come to his leaving unless they have a fight which doesn’t look likely lately, but if he does leave, you’re talking just 2-3 months. Meanwhile, I’m sure his frequent visits would be made known to me. Very well known.

I asked if he thought it was his dog or hers. No clue, he said. I’m sure it’s hers.

Just a few more hours of peace left to go. Even the guard dogs have been quieter this winter. I’m pleasantly surprised. I still wish this winter could be like last winter. It was the quietest winter of all the winters I’ve been here.

According to Tom, though, the couple of hours or so that he spent in the back room late last night, he heard no barking. I don’t know about that, though, cuz he’s much more tolerant than me. Therefore, the dog could’ve easily barked without him noticing. As loud as it is in the back room, especially at night, it could still go over Tom’s head. Unless he felt that telling me he heard anything, if he did, would rile me up even more.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1997
I have news that’s good, surprising, and infuriating. Let’s just say that Friday night was the direct opposite of yesterday and of how today’s been so far.

As I left off saying, the freeloader let me know he was coming and going loud and clear a couple of times. Then later, at around 8:30, the freeloader came in with the music blasting wicked loud and he just sat there in the car and wouldn’t even get out. So, it was either me killing him for once and for all right then and there or my waking Tom up. He went out and talked to him, but as always, he said he’d turn it down.

And Tom says this isn’t personal? How can he believe for an instant that this isn’t aimed at me? And even if it wasn’t, it is by God. If the freeloader isn’t doing this on purpose (but I know he is), then God’s going through him to get at me. In fact, I’m sure God did have a part in it. I didn’t sleep very well that night, either, and I think a good part of it was payback for banging the previous night. So, all in all, I knew I’d have to pay for it somehow. I just don’t get it, though. Why do I feel like I’m the only one in this world who has to be punished for waking someone up (except Tom)? And I’m still sure they never woke up. I can’t even get away with just thinking about waking someone up that I’m pissed off at.

Tom says he’s gonna mail the city out their letter tomorrow, but I don’t know. Whenever he does, if it’s as useless as I feel it’ll be, that black ass is mine!

Now here’s where it gets shocking - yesterday, he actually was quiet. I wasn’t born yesterday or the day before, though, and I know this won’t last long at all.

Paula called again yesterday and we talked. Why is fate having it be that we only talk when that kid’s there? It’s so annoying to keep being put on hold so she can scream at him and to have to listen to him whine like hell.

I also got another call I didn’t expect. My brother left a message. I was wondering when and if I’d ever hear from him again. In his message, he said he couldn’t talk long cuz he had to go out and shovel. So when I got a hold of him at work, it was the happiest chat in a long time. Kind of like old times when I’d give him my laugh when he’d tell me how cold/snowy it was. He said Sandy was out raking leaves one day and then they were shoveling snow the next day. They had 24 hours’ worth of sleet and then it snowed, and they were expecting more snow.

He said that Sandy and Jen were fine. He’s talked to Mom and Dad, but not to Tammy who said, “What makes you think he’d call me?” when I talked to her after. Then he faxed us an “upgrade to complete asshole” certificate. I sent Tammy a copy, but of course, I won’t tell her it’s from him, much less that he suggested I sent it to her cuz then she’d really be hurt. I just told her a friend faxed it to me.

I was never more shocked to hear that for the first time ever (that I know of), the family of Sandy’s that she’s been so very close to, has been giving her and Larry some problems. I don’t know what the problems are that Larry and she have had with them, not that it’s any of my business, but it was surprising to hear, nonetheless. As surprising as it’d be to hear Tom suddenly say he was pissed off at his mother.

I had Tom give Mom a couple of pictures when he went over to take her to church. One of the kittens when I rescued them from that storm, and one of my Bugs Bunny wall-art in the bedroom. By the way, when Tom told her I got “fancy” mice, she asked, “Dancing mice?” Also, the babies are just starting to get their fur. I saw a slight tinge of gray forming on their backs.

Now that Tom updated one of the computer’s CD ROM drives, we got to see a little photo slideshow that’s on Gloria’s latest CD. It’s got a few different things you can choose from, like song lyrics, about certain songs, etc. All the pictures sucked, except for one.

I got a kick out of Tom’s teasing me yesterday (since he came and I didn’t) when he said, “When we get the new bed, I hope you’ll cum more.”

Another sign that my ma’s brain is on the fritz - their number came up on our box yesterday. For sure too, yet when I called there to see what was up, she said she didn’t call me. Maybe Dad dialed us by mistake from another extension, maybe not, but it was their number for sure. Meanwhile, she’s sending Tom something.

Tom says he’ll fire off the letter when he gets in from work early tomorrow morning, then off it’ll go. His doing this when he knows I’ll be asleep makes me wonder if he’s really gonna do this letter thing, but if he does, I’ve got mixed emotions about it working. I know it won’t work, but I kind of wish it wouldn’t so I could be the one to have the honor of putting his music out of business for good. A bigger part of me wants this letter to take care of the problem cuz it’s the city’s responsibility and not mine.

I like the sound machine a lot and it’s great for stuff like dogs, car doors, and things like that, but it only does an OK job with shit like motorcycles, and it could never compete with bass in a million years. We’ll be getting another one, though, to use in the back room on Tuesday.

Tomorrow, we’ll be playing miniature golf and going to the library.

The sicko’s still quiet, but as we know all too well, it’ll be very short-lived. For now.

Now for the really good and surprising news - Tom got off yesterday. It shocked the shit out of me, too. Not just that he came, but cuz of when he came. If I were fertile, I’d most definitely be pregnant. Guess God’s decided that it’s time for him to see that I really am sterile, but either way, it was fun. I don’t know if God pitted the asshole against me (along with the asshole pitting itself against me) with the music in compensation for this, the bed, or what, but I think it’s more than likely payback for my late-night ruckus.

Both the bed and the satellite dish should be here this week unless something else puts a block on them.

I really ought to be ashamed of myself for being so naïve as to get that Agia electrolysis thing. It really is a crock of shit. I should’ve known it was too good to be true and saved myself an extra $100, but it’s too late now, cuz I can’t get my money back from this place.

The mice are doing fine. I haven’t seen much of the babies, cuz the 3 ladies are keeping them buried under the sawdust to keep them warm since they don’t have their fur yet. Even Cocoa and Shy help sit on them to keep them warm. It’s the female mice’s instinct. Ziggy’s still the friendliest and likes to sit on my shoulder. When I lay on my stomach, she runs up and down my back. I had her in my hand and at arm’s length, I shot pictures. I hope they come out OK. I also shot a few of Bunny and the cats. The kittens like to play with Bunny and thankfully, Mama Cat and Bunny get along just fine. They ignore each other, but that’s better than them fighting.

The living room wall heater broke like everything around here does. Instead of picking up the part to fix it, he got a couple of little portable heaters and they work great. So I have the original one in the bedroom, and the two little new ones are in the music room and living room.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1997
The babies are doing fine. It’s so cute how sometimes all 3 adults nestle in with them. It’s amazing that they don’t get smothered with 3 mice sitting on top of them.

As soon as I got up, fed the animals and made my coffee, Paula started my day with a good laugh. She says it’s sleeting there and that the place is all iced over. Also, there’s no school there today, so I had to deal with at least a little of her screaming at Justin.

I’m now on step 2 of the Nicorette program. For the first 6 weeks, you have a piece of gum every 1-2 hours, but now it’s down to a piece every 2-4 hours. For weeks 7, 8, and 9 it’ll be that way. Then for weeks 10, 11, and 12, I’ll be at a piece every 4-8 hours. So, I’m halfway through the program and should be getting more mail from the company soon.

Later…

Got more pictures in the mail yesterday. I was wondering where the pictures were that I took of Spunky when we first got him. And it turns out that I did take pictures of Gizzy the gerbil, too, so Mom, Dad, and Tammy will each have a couple of envelopes of pictures to look forward to.

My folks left a message saying that they’ll update me on their trip in a few days, but first, they have to catch up at the store.

I’m really really pissed at Tammy. So pissed I could wring her neck! I should’ve known better when I wrote something about Tammy not making Lisa feel it was her fault that she got sexually assaulted. I’m sure that in the beginning she didn’t, but Lisa told me when we talked the other day that she called her own daughter a slut and told her that as far as what happened, she brought it on herself. Can you believe that?! I can, cuz that’s typical Tammy, but how sick can she be? How sick can anyone be to blame someone for someone else’s sick behavior? Especially a 14-year-old? Tammy has a way of seeming to be on your side one minute, then pouncing on you in the next minute. If there’s another good thing to never having a child, it’s that she and my parents would make me feel like I couldn’t handle it or that I’d be a lousy mom, if they didn’t come out and just say so. Maybe they’d have been right, but who would they’ve been to talk? I hate it when people pretend they can handle something or do well at something when they can’t, and then turn around and either tell or imply to others that they can’t either.

Lisa also told me what it was that she wrote that set Tammy off. Lisa started a journal, at the advice of her social worker, who she says also says it’s her fault and poor Lisa believes it, too. Tammy was rude enough to go and read it and I guess the problem was all about Lisa being friends with a bad boy. Lisa said she understands her parents not wanting her to hang out with kids on drugs, but she says she really cares for this guy as a friend. Lisa also told me she’d never write down that we talk, much less tell anyone.

Anyway, I told Lisa it was not her fault that some pervert hurt her (someone had to tell her what’s true). No matter what you do, say, or wear, a sick person is a sick person and we are not responsible for the actions of others. Parents should do their best to raise their kids to behave and all that and set good behavioral examples, but after that, we’re all on our own, all responsible for our own behavior. Not anyone else’s. Others may influence how we act, feel, think, believe, or our attitude, but that’s about it. We don’t control them and what they do.

Boy, do I have mixed emotions about God and Tammy. Tammy never should’ve had kids and God shouldn’t have allowed her any, but if she didn’t, I’d never have my niece Lisa as part of my life.

Tom doesn’t have a cold after all. Maybe he was just tired, as usual. Still, something will act like there’s a real pregnancy to avoid. Of course, we’ll also be busy, but that’s nothing new. God’s got to keep our time for sex, or for anything, in spurts. The positive side of it, though, is that it makes what time we do have more special.

Also, Ziggy went upstairs and came down without a problem, so I guess she just felt more comfortable waiting till she had the babies. Now my question is, is Shy pregnant? I doubt Cocoa is, but who knows with Shy?

Later…

Here we go with the bull. Tom’s implying that he’s gonna get off like hell tomorrow. When he works out his fears and paranoia - maybe.

I reminded Tom about the city letter, and now he wants to wait for a little to see if there’s a pattern. I knew it! I knew he’d stall and he’s gonna keep putting it off and making excuses with the false hope of my changing my mind about it. He still says he’s sure this letter will work, too, but I know it won’t. But if I can get him to send it and show him that it won’t work, then I can go and take care of next door myself in a way that will work till God punishes me for it.

Anyway, as far as patterns go - there is a pattern. There’s been a pattern for most of the time they’ve been here. At the same time, there’s a pattern, though, there isn’t a pattern. Meaning, instead of banging in loudly 2-4 times a day. It’s now usually twice a day and it’s sometimes not too loud. Also, the times vary. There’s no set time for when he comes and goes. He could leave at 7 AM and return at 5 PM one day, then leave at 8:30 AM and return at 7 PM the next day. Even so, he’s had about 3 different patterns in the times he’s actually lived there. First it was the loud music 2-4 times a day. Then it was no music, but the dog and the car doors. Now it’s car doors and music about twice a day that’s sometimes not too loud.

The asshole’s now beginning to park just outside the carport now where I can see him, now that the weather’s chilled down.

Like I said, if he or the city can’t or won’t do anything about their shit, I will.

We drained the pool some more today and it’s just about empty. There’s still a little bit in the Jacuzzi part.

Andy left 3 messages, 3 minutes each, telling me that he likes his job.

Again, I really like and care for my pal Paula, but boy is she a doofus! She doesn’t know who the father of either of her sons is. It’s fine to be a slut, cuz you know me. Whatever turns you on and to each their own is fine. But Jesus! Know the father of your kids for crying out loud!

She’s so full of shit too (unintentionally), saying that she didn’t know she was pregnant till she was in the 6th month and then she tried to tell me she had screwy periods till she was 6 months pregnant, then they stopped completely. First off, it’s impossible to not know you’ve been pregnant for 6 months. You’d have to be showing, be sick, or feel it moving around. Secondly, if you had that much bleeding, that fetus would be wiped out for damn sure.

It’s amazing how it wasn’t till this year that I really, really began to see and understand just how spacey and out of touch with reality Paula is. Sometimes, it takes being out of a person’s life for a while, then re-entering it, to see them for who they are. I knew she wasn’t too stable and that she was lacking at least a part of her brain back when we were neighbors, but not like I know it now. I was just too fucked up with too many of my own problems to be as receptive as I am now.

Later…

I’m so fucking pissed! Thanks, God. Thanks for rewarding me with next door going back to the way they were when they first got here for my not smoking and for my never doing shit to these people to deserve this. I swear to God, I’m gonna be out back making a ruckus every night that I’m up and I don’t care how much sleep I lose over it.

There were 6 helicopters swarming around the area really close by, and you know how loud those are. Yet over that, the fucking freeloader could be heard leaving louder than he has in well over a year. Tom heard it, too. I mean, we’re right back to where we started at the very beginning. Then, he came back just as loud. Tom was right when he said that in time, they’d go back to their same old shit after our screaming match, so I’d like to think he could be right about this letter shutting him up, but no way. And if it did, these fucking sick mother-fucking freeloaders would do something else. They’ll go out and get another dog or do something. Like I said, it’s either music or dogs with these sick fucks. And if it shut them up in all areas, God would have something else disturb my peace. Maybe a Mormon family will move in across the street, maybe there’ll be more construction around here, etc.

I’m gonna end up killing this freeloader! It’s just a matter of time now. When I get done with this fuck, this fuck’s gonna be out of commission for quite a while, and then when he is physically able to drive, he’ll be too fucking scared to blast that music, cuz he’ll remember. He’ll remember and he’ll have nightmares of me for the rest of his life. I really am about to be this freeloader’s worst nightmare. By the New Year, I’m sure.

Now this could be cuz they heard me talking to Tom out back and this is his way of saying, “I heard you. Now hear me.” Yeah, I hear you, you fucking black asshole. And soon you’ll be more than just hearing me! It could also be cuz they’ve figured out it’s me banging at night and why, but either way, I know they planned this the moment his bitch and I laid into each other.

What? Does he want me to do something to him or his car? He gets really loud at just about the same time he starts parking in front of the carport (as well as when the dog leaves). Is he looking for an excuse to take me to court? Well, he isn’t gonna get that, that’s for sure.

The only thing that’s improved here, is that due to the fact that these freeloaders don’t dig winter, they’re not having as much company, nor are they hanging outside gabbing.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1997
And now I have 5 mice! That is, unless Shy or Cocoa’s pregnant, too. Meanwhile, Ziggy had two babies, and boy are they ugly. They’re these pink, bald, squirmy little things and are unrecognizable. I wouldn’t know they were mice if I didn’t know any better. They mature so fast, though, so they’ll look like mice before you know it. I just hope that this is it and that they’re the same sex. I could wind up with tons of mice if not, but I could give them to pet stores. I’m sure they’ll be fed to snakes, but I may not have a choice.

They’re so tiny. Barely bigger than a jellybean.

This may explain why only Cocoa’s been exploring the upper levels of their house, whereas Ziggy and Shy have remained downstairs (Shy looks pregnant, too).

Guess the workers are gonna be next door any minute now. Yesterday, I heard him leave by way of the car door awfully early, and shortly after, they arrived. Same scenario so far today - he left just before 7:00. Get it? As if he doesn’t want to make it appear that he’s spent the nights.

I was surprised but pleased that the workers weren’t here all day yesterday. Just a few hours, actually, but I thank God for my schedule being the way it is. They arrived at 7:00 and for a good 45 minutes, they pounded and pounded so loud that it shook this house and would’ve woken me up for damn sure! Then they worked quietly and left around 10:00 when we went and got Chanukah presents for my parents and for Tammy and Bill. I got them some desert decorations too, but not the same kind I’ve got. Theirs are coyotes with flowers and cactuses. A very beautiful southwestern display that I know they’re all gonna love and that they can’t get in the states they live in.

We went to the library too, and Tom got the address we needed. I got a Dean Koontz book.

Then Tom said he had a slight sore throat. Yeah, I believe it. He’s well overdue for a cold and it’s perfect timing, too. Meaning, right as I approach prime time. Once again, something’s got to act like there’s a pregnancy to prevent. Then why did it allow Tom to cum a good 5-6 times when it was the right time when he first started cumming? Nothing happened then, or in the past with asshole Ron, so I am sterile. Why, though, must it act like I’m not? And once again, if Tom’s so sure I’m fertile and if he wants a kid that bad, why hasn’t he cum in months?

Here is another of his many bullshit cures - he told me that quitting smoking would help him to cum, but all it did was increase the sex for a week or two when I first quit. Meanwhile, it’s been almost 6 weeks since I’ve had a cigarette and not once did he squirt. Oh, wait a minute! He needs a new bed to cum! That’s right. Only this mattress can cure his little problem.

We got some pictures in the mail yesterday that aren’t as impressive as I hoped they’d be. Some of them are blurry. There were some of my folks from when they were here and a couple of Gizzy the mouse. There were several of Bunny and Teddy Bear. Too bad I didn’t shoot pictures of Gizzy the gerbil, but I thought he’d be around a lot longer than he was. Anyway, I’ve sent my folks and Tammy about 12 pictures each. Of course, I look terrible in the few shots I was in. I look chunky and my face is geeky looking. You can also tell how dead and uneven my hair is.

I got a kick out of another ditzy thing Paula had said when we spoke. Since she loses my number every time she moves when she writes it down on paper, she wrote it on her apartment wall this time around. She’ll have to take that wall with her when she moves.

Later…

God, these baby mice sure are weird-looking. They look like they don’t have any eyes at all and you can barely see where the mouth and nose are. The ears are just little humps. They look like they’re only partially formed, which in a sense, is true.

I forgot to say before that the mice were $2.50 each. So they all came to just over $8.

Their tails look like rolled-up silk close up, but when you move away, they look like worms.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1997
The mice are settling in well. Shy just got tangled in my hair, but I got her out. The other two really love to run up and down my arm and when I lay on my stomach, they run up and down my back.

I asked Paula if she’d be settling in, speaking of it, and if she’d be hanging around the place she’s in for more than a few months. She says yes, but we’ll see.

My theory was right. She’s not on welfare. She’s on disability, listed as a nut just like I was. They sure treat her better than they treated me. She’s living in a 3-story duplex (cellar, first floor and upstairs) and is getting $1000 a month. Her rent’s also just $132 like mine was with Carabetta on Oswego St. This is all cuz of the kid, though. They do more for those with either very bad handicaps or kids.

Speaking of kids, I still can’t understand how God could give this girl kids and not me. I can see him choosing to bless Evie over me, but her? Please! I love my friend Paula and remember well all the times she listened to me bitch about life. I know she can’t help her flaky state of mind, too, and she was obviously born that way and got this from her real mother, who she says is a mental case that’s been locked up forever. So no, she can’t work, cuz she’s just too stupid to. This isn’t someone suffering from PTSD like I was or who is just stressed out. She may even have some type of mild retardation.

She told me that Robert had been with a doctor, but then they moved him and she doesn’t know where to. She said some guy was supposed to have molested Robert and that he was taken from her for reasons of neglect and abuse, but that she proved she could keep Justin. How could she have proved that? All she ever does is scream and threaten. And the way she said, “He’s so mental,” about Justin and loud enough for him to hear, was just awful.

Then she said she wondered if she was pregnant, cuz she’d gained weight and then she said something about the tubes she had tied growing back after 5 years. I never heard of that. I mean, I thought if a woman had her tubes tied - that’s it. No more kids ever. If I’m wrong though, God, don’t you dare let this girl have another baby!

Then she went back and forth from admitting that Robert may be better off where he is since she just couldn’t handle him to saying she was gonna go hunt him down without caring if she got arrested, etc.

She broke up with the guy she said she was seeing in the letter she’d written to me. He got busted for drug dealing. Yeah, that’s the kind Paula would seek and attract. Now she says she’s seeing a CO. That’s a step up for her.

She sure is a reminder of just how far I’ve come. I’ll never have a child or some hot job, but I’m not on disability anymore and I’m not still in trouble, either.

Anyway, although she’ll be out of where she is soon enough and without a phone again for a while, I’m gonna try not to talk to her unless the kid is in school. He’s in 1st grade. This way, I won’t have to hear her threatening to punch him in the mouth, etc.

I forgot to say earlier that I got to ask a guy working next door if the house was being sold. As figured, he said no, they just had their main line replaced.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1997
Got a message from Paula while I was asleep. I’ll have to give her a call at a more decent hour. She’ll be up by 7 AM her time. Can’t wait to see what’s been up with her.

I slept OK, but I still woke up too soon for a while, then fell back asleep. I’m not sure at this point, whether or not I’m gonna try harder to lose weight or just let myself keep gaining. I may have no choice but to keep gaining. God gave me my lungs back, so I’m sure he’s not in a hurry to give me my body back, too.

We went to the pet store yesterday where I really lucked out. We had discussed the possibility of getting a female hamster to make babies or a female and male gerbil. Instead, I got 3 really cute mice (all ladies).

Their names are Ziggy, Shy and Cocoa.

Later…

I stopped earlier, cuz Tom got up and we got to talking.

I also just called Paula and ended up laughing my ass off, cuz just like when I called her nearly a year ago, she was waiting for the landlord to fix her heat. She never has any heat. She’s so cursed when it comes to heat and is always trying to get her heat fixed.

So in the two minutes we spoke, before the landlord beeped in, she told me that she moved a couple of times, which is typical Paula. She was also screaming at the kid, as usual. She did get the shirt I sent and the letters and still has the same PO Box. She’s in a West Springfield housing project.

She said she’ll call me back, but you never know when that’ll be.

I thought they had time limits on people on assistance now. She hasn’t worked since I met up with her in ‘89. Maybe she’s on disability, as well as welfare, cuz she is out of it in the head to a degree. She’s just so flaky.

Anyway, the mice I got are called long-haired silkies or fancy mice. Their fur really does look like shiny, shimmering silk. They are so adorable and so mellow compared to the house mouse I had and the gerbil. Gerbils and hamsters are definitely the most aggressive of them all and house mice never want to be friendly. They just want to be ignored. These mice, though, are so friendly. Just a little skittish, but they’re just babies and I just got them.

Cocoa’s the smallest and she got her name cuz she’s all brown. Shy is Shy, cuz she’s the timidest. Ziggy’s Ziggy, cuz she has a white zigzag streak across her head. Shy and Ziggy have brown and white, but mostly brown. Cocoa’s small, Shy’s average, but Ziggy’s big. I wonder if she could be pregnant.

Zig’s the friendliest of them all so far and she loves to sit on my shoulder and walk along my arm. I took some pictures, too. She tried to climb onto my nose and into my mouth, but I made sure she didn’t.

Anyway, I love the mice and am glad I found them. All I’d ever see for mice in pet shops were all white mice, which I don’t care for.

Later…

This is just too fucking weird. They’re working again next door! They come on weekends, they come on holidays. Are they gonna come on Christmas, too? And are they ever gonna finish what they’re doing? Not only are they here today on a holiday (Veteran’s Day), it’s raining out too, yet they’re sawing, banging, thumping, and doing God knows what. I guess God’s back to his not wanting me to sleep much, cuz they’re not gonna be gone till 6:00 and I’ll need to crash at 3:00 or 4:00. Tom says it seems like too much work for just fixing things that need to be fixed in general. He says it seems like they’re preparing to make a sale. Whatever. I just wish they’d finish!

Later…

I just spoke to Andy who said he got a job. I’m so happy for him. And it’s his one and only job application and interview since being fired. The restaurant is just a mile from his house. I don’t know what his hours will be yet or what days he’ll have off.

Michelle’s friend or mother, I forgot which one, will be taking the waterbed. In exchange for my giving them the waterbed, they’ll be bringing that security door in their truck when they come to pick the bed up. Our new bed should be here within 5-10 days. I hope!!! And I hope it works out, too. I mean, I know it won’t change the sex and the sterility, but I just hope we really can sleep well enough together with this new bed and sound machine.

The day I got the mice, I called my folks to tell them about it live, but Gene answered. I had an unexpected, but pleasant chat with him. He really sounds a lot like Dad. We talked about the weather and things in general and he told me mom surprised dad with a trip to Orlando. Dad had to have blood work done, which came out fine. While this was going on, Ma packed up the car and just took off with Dad later. I guess it’s two hours away.

I called Gene today too, and he said they called last night and that they were at Epcot Center and at a laser light show.

Later…

Are they ever gonna leave next door? These assholes have been here for 7 hours, so what the fuck can they be doing? There was a cement mixer here a few hours ago that was obviously filling in the patio, but they’re not done yet. I noticed something different today and that’s that someone was up on their roof. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, but is all this really over the sewers? He’s still living next door, cuz we either see the car or hear the car doors, so they’re not moving. All my “change” vibe was over was because of the work they were doing and the temporary absence of the dog. I knew the dog disappearing after just a few months was too good to be true. God would never like me enough to allow a dog to piss me off for such a short time. It’s gotta be coming back. Sooner or later these city fuckups have to finish whatever the fuck they’re doing and then, in comes the beast. Well, at least my only choice won’t be music to drown out its barking. And if it doesn’t return, which is what Tom thinks will be the case, there’s still bound to be a dog over there at some point, be it the asshole’s, or someone else’s.

Tom still wants to pick up another sound machine, but for now, he got another fan. So I can have the fan on, instead of just music, which was what I was trying to say before. The AC fan just barely wipes out the guard dogs two yards away, but it’d be useless against a dog just a few feet away. This one’s more than a fan, though, for a box fan. It’s got a grill on its front to let you control the direction of the airflow. Its blades are so skinny, too, and that’s probably why it’s not as loud as the other fan I had. Still, it makes for a good backup for when the sound machine dies.

OK, he just banged in next door, so off goes the letter to the city. Not that it’ll do any good and not that Tom will send it right away.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1997
Again I woke up too soon yesterday, after only 5 hours of sleep. Nothing woke me up, but I just couldn’t get back to sleep and it was frustrating as all hell. Finally, after a couple of Benadryl, I crashed and ended up with a total of about 11 hours of sleep. I needed it, too!

If anything’s improved by being woken up too soon, it’s that I’m not wheezing my ass off. My heart still beats hard and fast, but not as bad. I still feel just as beat and disoriented, though.

Anyway, this being woken up started right when I began dieting. I was gonna quit the diet and see if I got woken up again, figuring that if I slept OK, then something didn’t want me losing weight. However, I’m down to 110. So since it’s working, I may as well just deal with being woken up. For a while, anyway.

I still don’t know if something was trying to punish me or trying to tell me something or both. Tom says getting up for a kid would be no problem, cuz it’s a responsibility, whereas something that’s not my responsibility, is different.

He also pointed out that just cuz David and Evie got what they wanted, and so soon after marriage, doesn’t mean that Evie didn’t have to go through her share of shit, too. She was married twice before and both guys left her and took everything.

Tom also suggested that maybe something’s testing us to see how bad we want it. For this long? I can see that for a few months but for a few years? That’s quite a test, don’t you think?

I asked Tom the question I asked this journal - why he suggested I’d be pregnant at different times if he knew that the answer to that was the bed. His answer was that just cuz he knew the bed would work, didn’t mean other things couldn’t work too. Well, he gave himself away, not that I didn’t know any better when he said he wouldn’t give any more timetables after December. In other words, he knows my being pregnant in December’s bullshit, but that he’ll stop doing that after December (saying I’ll be pregnant by January, then by February, etc).

Tom would’ve gotten a kick out of my horoscope if he’d seen it on AOL. I told him about it, though. It said that household things that need repair or replacement may seem like a crisis, but that in the end, it’d turn out to be beneficial. I wondered that, too. If maybe God had the fan break knowing that this sound machine would help me even better. For example, it may help with his snoring if we ever get that bed.

I talked to Tammy yesterday, who says she’s gonna be quitting smoking by way of a medication that goes to the brain that’s very expensive. I never heard of it, but she says that after a week of taking the drug (she’s still going through the same lung problems I had there), she will quit smoking. I hope so. It’d be nice to see her follow in my footsteps. Yes, it’s now been 5 weeks for me and the intense cravings and dizzy spells are just starting to ease up.

Today I’ll probably be going to the pet store to see about getting a new small critter of some kind.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1997
Yesterday was a shitty day. All was going just fine for a while there. I had even gone over 12 hours without eating, was down two pounds to 112, and quite proud of myself.
Then Tom told me something that caused me to have mixed emotions. That David got a vasectomy cuz he and Evie got what they wanted - a boy and a girl. I’m very happy that they got what they wanted, but what about me? Don’t I count too? Doesn’t my dream matter at all to God? At least David and Evie are one of the few great people that I wish had more kids than society’s assholes do, and perhaps it’s not very humbling for me, but it’s not fair! Please God, don’t forget me too.

Something was out to get me real good yesterday. I don’t know if God was punishing me, or just trying to remind me that a baby isn’t something I could handle physically and mentally or both.

It began at bedtime. I threw my book onto the bed, planning to read a bit before crashing, then went to reach for the fan. Sure enough, though, the speed control on it broke and it wouldn’t go close to high speed.

Is God ever gonna stop breaking our stuff?! I just wish he’d leave our stuff alone!

So Tom brought in two wimpy fans and then we tried what we thought would be a hot idea to create white noise. We set the radio where there wasn’t a station, to create a mix of static and wind sounds like the fan.

Meanwhile, even though it wasn’t till 2 PM that I fell asleep to that, I noticed at 10:30 that the fucking construction vans are next door again! What the fuck are they doing over there? And does this explain why the dog still isn’t there? Am I still in for that dog returning? Anyway, even though the static on the radio wasn’t quite as consistent as I’d have liked, I fell asleep. But just for two whole hours. The fucking thing started crackling and popping and the rush of static/wind was coming in waves. Then I tried tuning in a real station on the radio only to wake right up on every commercial. How the hell did I once sleep to this thing?! Then I tried playing a CD, but then the speakers on my old box, which have never had a problem before, started crackling and faltering, too!

Like I said, it was way, way too obvious that something up there was trying to get me. Again, was it punishing me, or trying to teach me a lesson about having to keep getting up? Or could it have been cuz of my trying to lose weight that something up there hasn’t wanted me to lose? I don’t know, but it was more than frustrating and angering. It was scary.

Tom, who had left after the discovery of the fucked-up fan, came home after the last thing that woke me up which was the fucking people working next door. He brought me a real treat that I’ll use till God breaks it, and he’s already warned me that he will break it too, cuz its speakers fucking crackled on me as well for a few seconds as I was adjusting the volume. Anyway, it’s a noise machine with 6 sounds. The two I don’t like are the chorus of crickets and the heartbeat. They say fussy babies like the heartbeat, though, cuz they can hear the mother’s heartbeat in the womb so it soothes them, but I’ll never have to worry about a fussy baby. There’s also a rain sound and a mountain stream sound and these are nice, but my two favorites are the ocean waves and the white noise, which is a recording of a waterfall. I finally slept to this last one with no interruptions from 5 PM - 10 PM.

We hope to get one of these to use in the back room too, cuz they’re not just great for sleeping and drowning out noise like barking, but they’re very relaxing. I also love the fact that I can put it anywhere I want and not have to worry about it being dangerous like a fan can be (if my middle-ass-length hair got caught in it). And I don’t have to deal with the draft of the fan in the winter.

Tom also got computer parts for us, but mainly for him. We’re gonna be having more of our own computers so that we don’t have to worry about hard drive space or if one’s using the computer when the other wants to.

He’s also gonna set things up to make it easy for me to make more screensavers out of videos.

I can also watch TV in the corner of the screen while I type, but I don’t know if that’ll be something I’ll be that interested in doing. That’d be sort of distracting.

Anyway, even though I finally won God over on the sleep issue, even if I’m still a bit tired, it was off to more bad news when I got up. It seems something’s also delaying our Visa card. Something doesn’t want us to get that bed. But why?! Is it trying to prevent added normalcy? Or is it trying to protect me from more trouble/heartaches/frustrations?

We discussed sending the city the letter about next door and have decided that we’ll wait till they start up again. I don’t know why the music ended so soon, not that I can complain, but I know them and know that it’s only a matter of time before it’s a problem yet again. So Tom will get the address to which to send the letter, but as soon as we hear them, off it goes. Not that it’ll do me any good. And not that God won’t make me pay for it, too.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1997
Tom was sweet enough to come home right after work, instead of heading to do the grocery shopping. He said he was sorry I had to find Gizzy alone.

I put Gizzy in an empty coffee can and Tom put it in the dumpster. It’s not like I had him for years, or else I’d have had Tom bury him, which he offered to do.

Sometime soon, I’ll go pick out a new small critter, but I don’t know for sure if it’ll be a gerbil, a hamster, or a mouse.

I hope to hell this weekend is peaceful. That’s all I’d need is for them to throw their fucking noise at me be it music or whatever, on top of the not smoking, the losing Gizzy, and the fact that I’m now 114 pounds.

Of course, Tom never sent the city that letter about next door. I knew he wouldn’t, and even though they’ve been quieter for some strange reason, he should’ve at least gotten the address. He should’ve gotten that the day he verified that that was a city-owned house.

I talked to Andy earlier, who’s still afraid to get a job. He said he went to one restaurant that he believed would’ve hired him till Cocoa’s ruined it for him.

Andy and Michelle are going to the lesbo bar together. I’m glad Andy’s got someone to take my place in that department.

Andy’s just as amazed as I am that I’ve gone this long without smoking. It’s nice to be able to breathe, but I’m far from thrilled about gaining 6 pounds in the last month, and I still have cravings. They’re easing up a little, but they’re still there and I’m sure they always will be as long as I continue not to smoke.

Andy, who even said he never gives up (when it comes to getting a boyfriend) and who’s always been more optimistic than me, can’t believe Tom could believe that a mattress could bring a child into the world. He’s not as optimistic as Tom is, you see, but I explained to Andy that although it’s not the mattress itself that he thinks will bring a child into the world, but rather the closeness/normalcy of sleeping together, I agree his optimism is overkill. It’s a shame that as much of a genius as my husband is, he’s also this naïve, but again, I don’t think he’s really off in Never Never Land. I don’t think he believes what he’s saying. I think he’s pulling my leg and trying to tell me something that sounds great, but I know better. He says he disagrees, but I think that if you truly love someone, you can have normal sex with them full-time in a public bathroom stall. Sure, sex is harder to concentrate on when you’re sick, mad, sad, or worrying about something, but when the sex hasn’t started off with him being tired, hurt, mad, sad, sick, or worried - what’s the problem? Fear. Fear is the problem and he may or may not know it, but my husband’s way too intelligent to even think for a millisecond that this could be the answer to normal, full-time sex and a kid. Beds, environmental, and lifestyle changes may help, but they don’t make sex and babies. People do. People have had sex and conceived in public bathroom stalls, for fuck’s sake. But when one’s scared and the other’s sterile, then it becomes a rather difficult thing to do. No, an impossible thing to do. And God has yet to offer any help.

So, since I know real damn good and well that I won’t be conceiving a damn thing in December, but more weight unless I do something about it, I’ve got to try, as hard as it’ll be, to not eat. Just have liquids and vitamins.

Later…

I don’t believe it. Now the unavailable calls are coming at this late hour?! That, coupled with the fact that they called 3 times in a row one night and wouldn’t even leave a message, tells me it is someone one of us knows.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1997
Well, there’s a car next door. I could just see the rear end of it hanging out of the carport, which runs right along the side of our house. I don’t know why he’s been quieter, or if he has for sure, cuz of the way my schedule is right now, but he ain’t going anywhere. I just don’t feel it.

My husband says I’ll definitely be pregnant in December and if I’m not by January or February, he’ll then begin to wonder. What a bad liar he is. I mean, really! Does he really think even an eighth of me could believe I’d ever be pregnant in December?

Anyway, Tom got a Florida Marlins T-shirt from my folks. They won the World Series and you know how much Tom loves sports. That’s where he’s your typical male.

Got a couple of purses and one had a dollar bill in it, a pair of white loafers, and some candy. A couple of plastic glasses with a fruit design on them, 4 really pretty coasters, and a very nice sweater for someone with sensitive skin and who always felt smothered in sweaters. It’s in the form of a jacket, rather than a shirt, which I like better than a regular sweater, and it’s very pretty. It’s got colorful floral embroidery around where the buttons are and pearl buttons.

For the first time, they sent CDs. There were 5 CDs. One, I already have, two I don’t want, but then the last two I’m keeping. One is of Carly Simon and the other is of Wilson/Philips. They sent two of theirs and I have one, but right now I’m checking out the Wilson/Philips CD I don’t have. So far I’m not impressed, but songs have a way of growing on me in time.

Now, here’s where I once again wonder about my mother’s state of mind and memory. We already discussed and agreed she wouldn’t send us this plaid blue comforter, but she did anyway. Oh well.

Got a letter from Kim, who said she’s glad to hear I’m not smoking. For a nurse, I’m sure she is. She and Walter are still doing well, so I’m happy for her. Who knows when they’ll be living together, though?

I also got more stickers and address labels from the HS. With them, I’ll probably never need to order a nice set from this company’s catalog that I use. The HSs aren’t as nice, but they don’t cost anything.

They finished working today on the front street corner and believe it or not, I slept through a couple of hours of their work. I waited to go to bed after they got here, figuring it’d be easier to go to bed to their noise, rather than fall asleep first, then have it wake me up. And they’re definitely all done, too.

Later…

Gizzy’s dead. I don’t really want to get into it now, so later…

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1997
Earlier, we went to Wal-Mart and got a couple of new pairs of sweatpants and a couple of new bras, since I’m just not skinny anymore.

I also got the little critters more toys. I got 4 more curved tubes, a maze, and a high-rise. I decided that the maze did interest me, after all. It’s really cool and I’ll rotate it between Gizzy and Teddy Bear. What the high-rise is two little round tubes that are connected that they can sleep in. Instead of keeping them connected, though, I’ve got them set up so that each one can use them. Gizzy’s got the red one on his house and Teddy Bear’s got the blue one on his house.

I also called Mary and told her all about the new stuff and she and Dave just got a high-rise, too.

There was another computer question from my parents a few days ago and hopefully, Tom will have the time to answer it soon enough. It was about how to get the 50 free hours she’s supposed to get, then she wanted to know if something would be billed on her phone bill or charge card.

Hopefully, he can also put the chicken wire across the top of the hutch (in case these cats do venture indoors here). Mama Cat now meows for me sometimes late at night when she wants more food. White Feet almost ate right out of my hand the other day, but Blackie’s still a shy one.

And I hope he can soon put on the new toilet seat, too. This is the second soft one that’s ripped, so now we’re back to hard toilet seats. That’s OK, cuz at this point; I have enough cushioning on my ass. As my dad said when he was here - I’ve got a soft ass.

He began draining the pool which is now just about empty. We still don’t know if we’re gonna paint it a solid blue, or if I’m gonna do any kind of drawings or patterns on it. It’s gonna depend on what kinds of paints and colors we can get.

I’ve been checking out some web pages on Charlie’s Angels and have been downloading some old pictures I used to love into my wallpaper file. It’s really cool to just be able to browse through all this stuff and I wish they had had this when I was 10 and really into them. Back then, you could only get pictures by way of magazines and you certainly couldn’t tape any episodes at that time.

The asshole’s been fairly quiet lately. Their color was never the issue. It was their music and dog that were the issue, and I know there’s good and bad in all colors and that most people suck.

Anyway, I’m not sure if he’s moving next door, but I guess it isn’t likely.

I hope I can talk to Lisa alone sometime soon. I’m really worried for her and I feel so sorry for what she and her sisters have to go through. In some ways, Tammy may be a better mom than our mom was, but not in very many ways at all. She’s either too much like her and if she’s not, she’s still a negative, moody, serious bitch. Very insensitive and hard to talk to, for the most part. She just doesn’t understand people too well, which is a shame what with all she’s been through. I don’t think Tammy’s fully to blame for who she is. We are who our parents shape and make us and what our experiences are as we grow up, but we still have to take responsibility for our own actions and make our own personal changes that we know are either right for us or that’ll improve us as the people we are.

I called there several days ago, and Lisa answered. Right away, I could tell something was wrong. She sounded miserable and she muttered in a shaky voice that she was, too. Bill was there, so we couldn’t talk. All I could do was ask her yes or no questions, but I couldn’t even do that for very long, cuz then Tammy came home. It had to do with them going through her room and finding something she wrote. That’s all I could get out of her with my questions and I didn’t want to ask questions that could be too suggestible and plant any wrong ideas.

Tom and I discussed it later, and we think the things she could’ve possibly been caught writing about could’ve had to do with negative statements against Tammy, sex, or maybe something she shouldn’t have said or done that involved someone outside of the household.

I hope Lisa will be OK and that we’ll be able to talk soon. I just worry so much over her mental state. I can only imagine what that must be like. I certainly know what Tammy can do to one’s mental state.

Tom’s not only saying he’ll definitely cum regularly when we get the bed but asked me why he’d work so hard and go through all the hassles of getting this bed if all he wanted was to use it to play with my head. Well, cuz he knows there are still some benefits to this bed that don’t include the actual sex acts. Like the closeness and added normalcy, for example, and the convenience it’d bring. I miss being able to walk right up to a bed and have a night table by it, too.

Anyway, he reminded me that I said I wanted to prove to him who’s right about the sterility, so this is a clean-cut yes or no way to find out. So, he’s saying that he’s gonna cum so much that we have to know who’s right about my being sterile? Good, God! How dumb does he think I am? I know better. Nothing will change. Then he’ll make up excuses and casually lie his way out of why things didn’t change by implying that it was my fault and that he was too busy. I can see the part about being too busy. That’s where God comes in. He’ll make sure Tom has his work cut out for him and his time sucked up really good to really tire him out. People’s cars will break and things will break around here way more often than usual. And always when it’s prime time too, as if there could really ever be a pregnancy that God just needed to prevent!

He says he’s always wanted a bed we could both share. Well, I knew that, but if it was this important to him, why didn’t he stress it more often and stronger? His answer was that he didn’t want to sound demanding and controlling. And if he felt the answer to a kid was this bed, why did he insist over and over again that I’d be pregnant at certain times in the past?

And how can God do this to a woman? And why me?

Later…

Another thing I forgot to mention that Andy told me in our chat we had the other day, was about when he and Michelle went to a lesbian bar. He said he couldn’t believe how many feminine women there are now. I can. Of course there are. I’m off the scene. Not that tons of fems would do me any good ever since I’m a fem myself. They like them really big or really butchy if they’re feminine.

The Humane Society sent me my 1998 calendar. It’s really nice. Lots of cats, dogs, rabbits, and other animals.

My breathing has improved tremendously, and I need my inhaler much less. It’s nice to wake up without having to wheeze my ass off and cough like hell. And to be able to sing without always clearing my throat. My nose still gets stuffy, but not as much. If only I knew I could lose weight, but I just don’t know if I can do that anymore. Or if it’ll ever get any easier for me. It’s hard at times. I can go hours without thinking of smoking, then I’m suddenly hit with such powerful urges to smoke. The Nicorette does help, but I can’t take that forever. I must wean my way onto regular gum. Today hasn’t been too bad with intense cravings and I hope that’s a good sign, but I sure do miss them. The ciggies, I mean.

Now I’ll indulge in a far-out fantasy, but hey, that’s what journals are for. The fantasy is that God picked this to be the time to allow me to quit smoking, cuz he never hated me. He never intended to deny me a child all my life. He was just waiting for the perfect time. And since he knows it’s hard enough caring for a child, he wouldn’t want it to be any harder for me by me gasping for breath all the time. So, the reason why he now helped me to help myself is so that he can now give me the child I’ve wanted for so long.

Yeah, I know. I’m great at dreaming.

I don’t see the car next door that I was surprised to see parked in front of the carport and not deep within it early yesterday evening. Does that mean he’s not there? Or does it mean he moved the car deep into the carport? My guess - it’s gone deep in the carport.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1997
No sounds from next door. I don’t know if that means he isn’t around, or if he figured out what the banging was all about and shut up, or shut up just because. I still doubt anyone heard me, but if they did, I wonder if they think there’s a connection between how the street corner looks right now and last night’s racket? This is where I get into my payback. This is also a scary reality, too, that proves I’m right about God and his ways with me, for the most part. I knew he’d never let me sleep after the 4-5 times I made a racket last night. And I was right. So, how can I be wrong about it when I say he’ll never allow me a kid?
First I woke up cuz of a really weird and unpleasant dream. Then, at 10:30 I was woken up by the city digging up our front corner where the fire hydrant is. They miraculously didn’t work all day. Just an hour or two, then I also miraculously fell back asleep.
Tom says that they probably won’t work at all today, since they plan on shutting the water off for 4 hours on the 6th. In other words, though, there’s gonna be 2-3 days where I’ll be woken up. Just how much of this work would need to be done if I hadn’t gone out and banged the night away, I wonder? Why is it that I can’t get away with anything? I mean, I just can’t get away with shit! And to have to pay for noise that I’m virtually certain wasn’t heard by anyone, makes me even more pissed. I can’t get away with just thinking about causing trouble.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1997
Still no dog next door, so the sick fuck had to blast in at 11 PM. And I’m sure it was him I heard last night, too. Oh, how I want just 5 minutes with this boy. Just 5 minutes! And she’s welcome to come to this door again too, as a bonus for me.

I pounded once last night, but tonight, given the fact that the music was even louder and I’m getting more and more pissed and closer to breaking my promise to Tom, I’ll be out there pounding every hour. It helps vent some of this anger and frustration, but not like it would if it were their heads I was pounding.

One of these days, I’m gonna break this promise to Tom, and why not? He’s broken promises to me and promises were meant to be broken, anyway. So when I see that this letter that he says he’s sending at the end of this week doesn’t work, and when the bed doesn’t change anything, and when he casually tries to lie his way out of it, I’m sure that’ll throw me over the edge. Then no more freeloader problems for me.

Tom was bitching about my name-calling when I referred to the sick fuck next door in a rather mean way. I told him I could see him not liking me calling him a name to his face or some family member he loves, but why can’t I call someone a name in our own home? Someone we barely know and who’s pissed me the fuck off? He said that that’d cause me to get into the habit of name-calling, in his opinion, and he doesn’t like to be called names. OK. However, if I’m gonna call him a name, I’m gonna call him a name regardless. I just think it’s OK to call someone names in journals and to people whom it can’t get back to and not to their face. The only thing that I think shouldn’t be written or discussed with others is if you have a problem with someone. Well, obviously my talking to the freeloader about his musical ways that are rubbing bad chords with me, didn’t do shit, so my fists will have to do what my mouth couldn’t do when that letter proves useless and when the bed does, too. Don’t get me wrong. The bed will help with some things, but if Tom thinks, or thinks that I think that it’ll cause lots of squirts and a planted seed, he’s got to be real damn naïve, if he isn’t lying intentionally.

I removed hairs from my tits and from my lower stomach, even if it took forever. I’m gonna wait and see if the hairs grow back. If they don’t, then I’ll continue on with more hair removal, but like I said, it’ll take me 5 lifetimes before I remove all I want removed.

I chatted with Andy, and while he got the new car, he still seems to be quite a sad case. I feel really bad for him. I do and I don’t. A part of him has made his own bed that he has to lie in, and he knows this, but we both also know that it isn’t easy to pick oneself up again, after a fall. And I know that some people just can’t help but be attracted to losers, users, and abusers, who are druggies and who live on the edge. Andy’s always been one of them, although he knows the consequences of being attracted to what he’s attracted to. It’s one of those cases where it’s easier to do what you want and not what’s best for you.

He still hasn’t gone job hunting out of fear that he won’t be hired anywhere due to what happened at Cocoa’s.

He also told me something that he even admitted was sad, sick, and desperate. If you’re a friend of Laura’s, you’re either a druggie, an alkie, or both. A 24-year-old alkie pal of hers really turned him on, so Laura called him from a payphone the other day and told him she could bring this guy (Aubrey) over to him, but that he was wicked drunk. Also, Aubrey told Laura to tell him that if he paid Aubrey $15, he could give him a blowjob. Well, I guess in the end Andy didn’t have to pay him, but that really really is very desperate and seriously sad. He should be saving as much money as possible and he should’ve been hightailing it to job interviews days ago.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1997
Oh, I can’t stand these constant, powerful urges to smoke that I get! Does it ever get any easier? Is it really a case of either bad lungs or having cravings for the rest of my life? I really don’t feel much different now as far as the cravings go than I did when I first quit. My dad said that it only took him about a month to stop thinking about it all the time and Tom says it’ll get better for me, too, but I don’t think so. I know everyone’s different, but I really think I’m gonna be one of those who wants one even after it’s been a year. And even longer, too.

Ma asked for a list of all the flags we’ve got that aren’t worn, so I typed her an inventory of them, which she says she’ll file away. She also shipped out another box to us and asked if Tom reads books, cuz she’s got a good book that deals with computers for him. Also, another T-shirt for him, but she says that this one’s special. I hope so, cuz we both have a million tees.

I told them we sent away for a batch of animal pictures I shot and that I wanted to know if they wanted me to hold off the mice since there’s gonna be pictures of Gizzy the mouse and since a lot of people don’t care to look at them. They said to send whatever I like, though.

This is an inconclusive report on the sick fuck next door, cuz I’m not sure if it was him that just banged in over there or not, but it fits his MO. After the final beat of music, I didn’t hear a door at all. Not even one shut softly, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him cuz he’s a night person and cuz the serious door slamming basically only went on during the dog’s existence. I tell you - it’s either dog and doors or music. Unfortunately, he’s still parking deep in the carport and with the way things are now set up around here, I can’t see if there’s a car there for sure now. It’s too much of a hassle and it’s not worth it. Also, Tom’s been checking, and if there’s a car there at 4:30 when he gets in this morning, then it’s obvious he stayed the night and that that was really him. Just in case, though, I am gonna be banging outside in a little while (give the freeloaders time to fall asleep if that was he who really came in almost a half-hour ago), and although God may ensure I’m wasting my time and allow them to sleep through it, I’m still gonna hope they hear it, cuz I’m not gonna be hearing them without them hearing me anymore. I’ll also take my chances with whatever God may do to me for it, too.

I can tell you one thing for sure… There’s no way in hell they’ll give me a reaction and let me know it’s waking them up if it is waking them up. It really would take something like me shooting a dog of theirs before they had anything to do with me. And it’d only be through the courts.

I really thank God for answering a couple of prayers of mine and in a sense, he really did answer them, too. Just one of them many years later than I first requested, and another in a partial kind of way. Well, I prayed for years for him to help me help myself quit smoking and I also prayed to have them move next door. The last time I did this was around our little screaming match. Well, he didn’t have them move, but he sure took care of the dog. So, I told him that if he did have anything to do with the dog’s removal - thanks.

I still wish God would grant me my first best and biggest dreams, besides the secondary ones, but some wishes granted are better than no wishes granted cuz that’s usually how it is for me. I either don’t get what I want at all, or I get it after a million years, or I only get a part of it.

Spunky’s really getting to be just about a full-grown pig. It’s almost time for his first nail trim.

Later…

I got my full flow, I’m not stuck, yet I’m now 113 pounds!! I’m starting to feel really desperate here about losing weight, but it’s just sooooo fucking hard. I’ve made such a pig of myself over the last few years. So now that my body is used to having more than just a few bites a day, I can’t starve for a few hours, let alone for a few days. My metabolism is getting slower and slower, and I’m not in my early to mid-20s anymore, either.

Once again I tried to puke after eating but just couldn’t bring myself to do anything so gross. They say that this can be addicting, but after quitting smoking for a month, I think that I could break any addiction I could ever have. If I starved, though, I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to do any disgusting puking, but that’s so much easier said than done for someone who’s hungry all the time and who can’t stand the hunger pains. Still, I think that if I can deal with cigarette cravings, I can deal with being hungry all the time. That’s something that I can adapt to and that’s something that will go away in time. Cigarette cravings won’t. I just have to tell myself that given the fact that I’m sick of being a frump, sick of most of my clothes not fitting, then knowing that I’ll never be pregnant and that I’ll keep gaining weight if I keep not smoking, it’s time to do something about it. I have to just stop eating and deal with being hungry. That is something that will go away, unlike the cigarette cravings.

Tom said that it’s not so much that the bed itself is gonna change us, but that the bed, which is an environmental change/lifestyle change, will lead to our sex lives changing. Uh-huh. Right. Well, like I said, I’m not getting pregnant and I’m not gonna drop the 13-16 pounds I need to drop by wishing I could drop it, so I gotta starve, puke, or do something!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1997
To get the asshole out of the way first - I heard him come and go with the music at a so-so volume and we’re wondering if he isn’t spending less time there. I hope so! And I hope he doesn’t come back full-time in the spring again, either.

Late last night my period began, little by little. I still haven’t had a full flow yet, but it’s normal for me to spot the day before having a full flow. I always get some type of full flow, though.

I wish that God could’ve allowed me to get pregnant last month, and just let us enjoy this new bed we’re gonna get without any other worries, like problems with sex/sterility. I wish God could’ve allowed me to get pregnant 3 years ago, but if God was ever just waiting for the perfect time, I really don’t see why this wouldn’t be it. I mean, we’ve worked so hard to get to where we are now and get this bed, and the not smoking’s been so hard, and I’ve wanted a kid long enough, so if we aren’t deserving of a kid at this point, and if now isn’t the right time, then God really does hate me. You don’t have to deserve a child in order to have one, as many non-deserving people have them all the time, but since God’s standards are so high for me, if this isn’t it, then I was right all along - it’ll never happen. As far as I can see, though, how much more right, ready, and deserving of a child can we be at this time? I think that if anyone deserves to enjoy this bed and the closeness and normalcy it’ll bring, have a normal, full-time sex life, and have a child, it’s us. I think we’ve been tested enough by God and that we’ve paid our dues dearly and have waited enough for wonderful things like this to happen. However, even though it’s been a miraculous month as of tomorrow since it will be one month since I quit smoking, I haven’t forgotten how God works with me. The bigger the dream, the more I can count on it as always being just that - a dream. There’s a big difference between moving to the desert and quitting smoking, compared to my having a child and God knows it.

There are times I can end up wrong about the things I say that can’t happen, then there are the times I could never end up wrong, no matter how much I wish to hell I could.

Even if I know better, the change I see in Tom lately, since we began making serious plans for the bed and especially since I quit smoking, is his confidence. He was always overly confident. Way too confident. But this is different. I’ve never heard him sound surer of himself when he says that the sex will turn out full-time and normal and that I’ll get pregnant, and you know he’s said that a billion times. There’s something different about it this time, though. Does he know something I don’t? I wonder if like God, he’s been waiting for the perfect time to let go, but just hasn’t said so. If that’s been the case and if he’s been waiting till what he felt was the perfect time to cum like hell, then fine, as long as he does it in the long run, and the long run being real soon, too. In a way, I wish I could know for sure that that has been the case all along, cuz then it’d ease my fears that he’s been full of fears about a kid. Or a miscarriage.

As excited as I am about this bed, which we hope to hell we can order tomorrow and that the Visa card comes in the mail, I’m also quite nervous about it. What if things aren’t the same? What if they’re worse? I knew that as used to as I am with his games, how am I gonna deal with his lying this time around, under these new circumstances? Well, if things can’t get better then I at least hope that they don’t get worse. Better to have things be the same than get worse. He said the bed and the not smoking were what would help his so-called problem. So far, the fact that I haven’t smoked for a month has only produced a slight increase in the sex but the sex has still been the same - one-sided. I usually get off and he gets hard. Hell, I don’t think he’s cum since July or August (I quit charting that and my periods), but how can I believe yet another one of his oh-so-sure cures?

The cat and kittens are warming up to me even more, but not much more. One of the kittens almost took a piece of food out of my hand, but not quite. We’re gonna put chicken wire on the top of the hutch, although I still don’t think they’ll ever be brave enough or even want to live inside some of the time.

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Last updated June 16, 2024