February 2000 in 2000s

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 29, 2000
Tom got a raise which is to be effective beginning tomorrow and will be switching to a day job that was created especially for him (without overtime) within a month or so. He gets more money for working nights, but with the raise factored in, he’ll be making the same amount of money on days that he’s making now on nights. The question is - how much will this new job improve our lives? Will we really have more time to do things and will we do more things? I can forget about it improving our sex lives in any way. That’ll never change, thanks to his fears and stubbornness. It’ll always be the same old, same old, and I wonder if I’ll ever have the desire to cum by him again.

Last night I set up the blue card table in the retreat that Doe and Art shipped out to me when I first came out here (I drew last night, and still want to get another table for that room). That’s where the air bed is too, so he can sleep in there on that when his mother visits. If she visits. I mean, what do we have to offer her? We have no kids to entertain her with. Just rats, mice and dolls, and somehow I think she’d find that quite boring.

My allergies have been picking up lately. For a while, my lungs were even better than they were when I was on the prescription inhalers, but last night they were tight. For the last few days, I’ve woken up sneezing, so I pushed myself to dust and vacuum really well today, concentrating on the bedroom and getting under the bed really well.

Evelyn gave us a housewarming present - a stained glass rose that I hung in the living room window. It’s pretty. She said she figured she ought to just give that to him since we’re obviously not having a housewarming party. No, those are for the freeloaders and selfish people just like them.

We also got a strange thing that was thicker than a sheet, but not thick enough to be a blanket. Tom said he’ll ask Mary some time what that’s all about.

Last night I got pissed at Tom for being so moody that I said he was working on putting me out of the mood for sex and that he could just go play with himself for all I cared. A little while later, though, he came where I was reading in bed and we were laughing and talking and I assumed all was fine at that point and that he knew that, but when I brought up the subject of sex later, he was like - I thought you said no. Then he went on to tell me how he gets disappointed when we don’t do it. Could’ve fooled me, I told him. Then he said that just because he didn’t always show his feelings didn’t mean he doesn’t have them. Fine. Whatever. I just want the sex problems left in Phoenix to stay!

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 2000
I got up at noon today and found Tom already up. He had slept from 6:00-11:00. Around 1:00, we headed out. It was nice not having to wait till he charged up the car. He fixed that problem, and of course, there’ll be another problem before a week or two is up. I can’t believe the well’s gone two weeks without being a problem, but it’s only a matter of time. Anyway, we went to a scrap metal junkyard in the center of Maricopa and got a 55-gallon metal burn drum. Like most days, today was too windy to do any burning, but I got some junk cleaned out of the car and put it in the drum for burning on a calmer day.

After picking up the drum, we headed down the street to Circle K but didn’t see Jennifer. This is because I decided she wasn’t worth waiting for. I wanted to leave earlier than her shift was due to start. I grabbed some Tic Tacs, some watermelon lip balm, and a few losing lottery tickets. Meanwhile, their cappuccino machine is still fucking broken.

Our last stop was at Dairy Queen. The original plan upon coming home was that I was going to do the animal’s cages, take a shower, and then we’d screw (or “try” to) before he crashed around 6:00 till he had to get up for work. Well, I did the animals and I showered, but he fell asleep long before 6:00. He conked out around 3:00, so he’s been out for three hours. There’s no avoiding the inevitable, though. We’ll have our bullshit bed ritual. What’ll it be tonight? Will he be too soft and not in the mood to go in there? Or in the mood for a cumless screw? Again I suggested some kind of sex aid like a stimulant that expands the blood vessels, but he’s not interested. He’s perfectly content the way he is and it’s what he wants. He’s stubbornly dead-set against cumming.

Still haven’t heard from Dan, and it’s been amazingly quiet in the sky. There’s been a couple of times I thought I heard or felt a boom, but I couldn’t say for sure.

He changed my online setup so I only have one icon and have more options for getting places online. He has the page that first comes up give me the local weather and current temperature, as well as my horoscope. He has the same thing on his and was telling me in the car today that I’d agree with his horoscope. He said it told him not to worry so much about neighbors and to just live his life. That’s what I’ve always told him. He’s too neighbor-conscious. Almost like he worships them and puts them on pedestals or something. He was paranoid the other day about the smoke bothering neighbors, but they burn trash, too. Also, if it bothers anyone, all they have to do is shut their fucking doors and windows. I remember once when the Mormons were next to us in Phoenix, I shut the front door as they came out to scream up a storm in the driveway, and he looked at me as if to say, that was rude, closing the door on them, and I was like, to what do I owe these people the honor of keeping the door open? Pretty much none of the neighbors I’ve ever had gave a damn about me and believe me, I don’t give a damn about them. Until the freeloaders get out here and force me to be a part of their lives, I don’t want a damn thing to do with any neighbors. I don’t want to know they exist, and when I’m made to know they exist, they’ll be very sorry they ever did. Out here I’m not gonna stand for anyone’s shit like I did in Phoenix, and I don’t care what Tom or the pigs have to say about it. I’ll live my life the way I see fit and do what I’ve got to do.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2000
The weekend was dead quiet. No music. No engine-gunning.

Starting yesterday, I began picking out and downloading screensavers, instead of wallpaper pictures. Tom showed me ways to do it. I mostly got pictures of flowers, scenery, and animals.

Tom, who’s back to work tonight, wasn’t in the mood to screw today, although it would’ve been nicer if he’d just told me so, rather than play those bed games he loves to play. First he tried to go in me and was too soft, so I warmed him up manually, the way he told me to the other day (he said I was too gentle), and he did get hard, but when it came time to go in me he deflated. As always, though, he wasn’t one bit frustrated or disappointed by it. He was all smiles.

Last night, both rats were out and Tom came and joined us on the floor only to end up getting attacked. Yeah, Scuttles bit him and Ratsy tried to strip him of his robe by tugging at his belt, trying to take it back into his cage. It was rather cute if you ask me.

I know this was very childish, but I just couldn’t resist the urge to do something I wouldn’t dare do in the past - cuss Larry out and threaten him. I wouldn’t do it because the last time we were fighting was when I was in my early twenties; the days when I was overly kind to anyone. Back then I wanted the attention of anyone, so I would always try to be as nice as I could, but now that I won’t associate with assholes, I’m not the least bit hesitant to let them know just what I think of them. Just think of all the people I would’ve stood up to right away and not taken shit from if I’d only been like I am now! I’d have kicked the crap out of so many people by now it isn’t funny! Maybe even went overboard in a fit of rage and killed them.

Anyway, I called him and told him what I’d like to do to him. I thought he’d either hang up right away or say something like, “Fine, do it,” but instead the only words out of his mouth were, “Who is this?”

I told him who I was, let him have it some more, then hung up on him. He just listened in absolute stunned silence, no doubt shocked to hear me boldly speak out to him like that, unlike he’d ever heard before or thought I was capable of.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2000
Ratsy does still wheel, after all. He’s just sleeping in later and only wheeling for short periods of time. At 1:30 last night, he wheeled for a few minutes.

At 2:00 last night, fucking Dan went engine-gunning. At 2:00 in the goddamn morning! It was only for a few seconds, but God that’s desperate, not to mention rude and obnoxious. Tom’s theory is that he has a bad battery that can only go so many hours until it needs to be charged up again. You mean to tell me he can’t afford a 60-dollar battery? Lonely people tend to be insomniacs and I think he just couldn’t sleep, so he decided to come out and let anyone who may have been up know that he exists. Well, put it this way - if it weren’t for Dan the place would be perfect (till the freeloaders get here) and no place is perfect, right? Every neighborhood has to have someone making a scene. Another couple of hours or so and it’ll be time for the Danantics again. I wonder what noise God will replace me with when it finally goes to Indiana. More booms? The booms lately have been ever so mild. They’re barely noticeable. I guess they told them to slow down for a while, but it won’t last long. I’m sure that this next week we’ll have some pretty wild booms.

Mary and Dave dropped off the bed and desk today. It’s a nice desk, but totally different than mine. It’s big, too. I set up the bed myself and put some pictures up in that room. Actually, I only put one picture up. One of Tom with Mary and his brothers, and two of the awards he’s received at work. We turned a box upside down and placed it by the bed as a makeshift nightstand that I covered with a tablecloth till we get a real one. With the bed, they gave us a mattress pad, the fitted sheet we gave them when we got the air bed (don’t know where the matching cover sheet is), a pretty cover sheet, a nice comforter with a southwestern pattern, and no pillowcase, so I used one of ours.

We thought they were going to run in and run out, but they wanted to see the animals and my computer desk. I guess they didn’t remember what it looked like.

After they left they headed for the casino which is like going to the bank for them. They always win. Hundreds of dollars. Even over a thousand at times. Like I said, we all have our areas where we’re cursed and blessed. Life is so unfair, though. Here she is, well off financially, about to win lots of money, while we can’t even afford to go out gambling in the first place. And when we do, we won’t win more than twenty to forty dollars. If we’d known better and done things differently we wouldn’t be strapped like we are now, but next time we buy a manufactured house, we’ll know better. We should’ve brought the animals to Mary’s, used Leona instead of Steven, rented an unfurnished studio, bought air beds, and not bothered with wells, trailers, and motels.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 2000
Well, I wanted to veg out in bed with some coffee, since the Benadryl I had to take again made me groggy, but Dan wouldn’t let me. Yeah, it’s engine-gunning time. I’m sure he won’t quit for an hour or two either. What was weird was that I just watched the cock drive in, swing around and park in a makeshift carport-like thing he’s got, and then, without even getting out of the truck, he sat there gunning and gunning the engine. Tom said he could be trying to put a charge into a bad battery. Two or three times a week? I don’t know. I think he just wants the attention of anybody that’s within earshot of his shit.

We were out before the cock got home (it’s amazing but nice that God waited till we were done before letting Dan come home) burning trash. Tom didn’t pick up a metal burn drum today like he said he was going to. He says he will tomorrow, but we’ll see. Meanwhile, he dug a hole and we burned some stuff in there.

Later…

That was so much fun! I was just playing with Scuttles and totally had a blast. It was almost like playing with a kitten. Usually, he goes in short bursts, not for a whole hour. This time it was me who had a hard time keeping up with him, my heart was pounding so hard. He ran in and out of the cage. When he was out, he’d either climb all over me and crawl under my arms, or he’d explore other rooms. I try to keep him out of the offices cuz of all the wires in there. I have a baggy sweatshirt dress on now, and he loves to climb into the neck of it and out the sleeve. He’s so cute and so affectionate. He really really likes me and not just to come out and play. What’s neat about the rats too, is that they go home and settle down in a tube or something when they’re done. No other rodent that I can imagine would ever go back home. They’d not only want to come out and explore, but they’d want to escape altogether.

I don’t know if Ratsy’s as fond of Scuttles as I am. Twice that I know of, they’ve gotten into a fight, both no doubt started by Scuttles. It’s a dominance thing.

Also, Ratsy’s now starting to really act like the old man he is. He’s not wheeling anymore and he’s sleeping more. It’s sad watching him become less and less active, but that’s life.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2000
Well, Dan didn’t do his shit yesterday, as it turned out. Maybe he’s waiting for the weekend.

Sex today wasn’t predictable, but it wasn’t a surprise, either. This time around, you could truly blame it on me and not his fears. Especially with me so close to a period. I was too gentle, he said. So, I guess I gotta try to firm up my grip. I did get him pretty hard a few times, but he wouldn’t stay that way. As soon as he got hard, he softened up again, but what did I expect? A good, normal, fun sex life with my husband? Ha! It’s amazing we’re even doing it more often as it is and that my crotch hasn’t been sore in a while, but as far as him cumming goes - he’s a lying little wimp who’ll never change, which in return, has dampened my desire to cum with him. He’ll just use things I said and did as an excuse to cover for his fears when all the stubborn guy has to do is just come out and express his fears about my conceiving a child which only I seem to know couldn’t be done no matter what, then we can get him fixed or something. But if he’d rather sacrifice cumming with his wife because he’s too stubborn to face his fears, then he can do that. What really pisses me off is the lying about it. He’s got to stop with the bullshit like how he said that if I don’t mention it for 30 days he’ll cum regularly. All he wants is to buy some time without my bringing up shit he doesn’t want to hear. That’s all this game is. Then at the end of the 30 days, he’ll say that he would’ve cum if I hadn’t said or done this or that. Of course, I’ll just have to wait and see if it’s because of something I said and did recently or six years ago.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2000
Dan just got home, from what I could see, so that means he’ll be starting his shit any second now. I had just walked up to the window as soon as the sun set and saw headlights driving in.

We went to Circle K and Dairy Queen again, but this time I only got fries from Dairy Queen, instead of fries, a burger, and a shake. I got popcorn at Circle K, but their coffee machine was out of order, so I got regular coffee and added a few cinnamon hazelnut creamers. We got a couple of bingo lottery tickets, too. Mine won nothing, and his won a few bucks.

I didn’t get to see Jennifer today. Guess she had the day off.

Before we went, though, just like yesterday, the car wouldn’t start and he had to charge the battery. Now it looks like this car, which is always needing something, needs a new battery.

I finally got Tom to call Bowflex, but because we just moved, we flunked the credit application. I’m sick of waiting for an exercise machine. I’ll wait on everything else I want, but not this. If I have to sell my guitars for one, I’ll do it.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2000
The glow of the moon out here makes it look like it’s the glow of a streetlight. It’s really obvious out here when it’s full, whereas in the city, the city lights make it seem the same all the time. Now that our skylight’s been cleaned of its dust by the rain, I’ll be looking forward to when there’s no moon, so I can see the beautiful stars. Yes, it finally rained. It pelted hail down on us, as well as rain, but it didn’t last long. It also helped to pack down the powdery, dusty dirt we have here. Especially the areas Gravity’s tractor churned up and softened. Unfortunately, it was dark when it finally rained, so I couldn’t see it.

We weren’t too thrilled with how close to the door it rained due to our 2” eaves. We didn’t think to put awnings over the doors, but we will. The side door may not need one, though, because it’s under where the roof slants. You don’t know how wonderful it was not having to play Leak and Bucket!

Today, while Tom was in the shower and I was sitting in the living room, a huge dust devil hit the side of the house, scattering some of our trash. It was pretty wild, too. All of a sudden, shadows flickered through the blinds as if a flock of birds had flown by. Tom even heard it over the running water and came flying out of the bathroom wanting to know what it was. It had hit the utility and den corner of the house, but by the time he got out of the shower and ran down to look out the front window in the living room, you could see the thing swirling towards the street. It was pretty cool.

Almost stepped on a few lizards that were out sunbathing. They’re pretty neat to have around.

We finally decided to try some of the well water. After all, the animals have been drinking it. It was too salty, another point proving the ocean theory. It’s just so hard to believe, though! You mean I’m sitting in what was once an ocean? And how deep was it where I sit?

Tom hasn’t exactly been lazy, but I hope he’s a little more productive than he has been for the remainder of his vacation. He still hasn’t cleaned the car out, gone to the dump, bought a metal burn drum to torch some of this trash, or made the calls he said he was going to make on Saturday to the CD club and exercise machine people.

My story’s coming along well. At least I hope it is. I’m writing an average of one or two chapters a day, but of course, the chapters are only about 3-5 pages long. It’s turning out to be more of a murder mystery than a ghost story, but if it’ll sell and make a little extra cash, why not? Mysteries are just as popular as romance. I’m just trying to write something a little less predictable. Something that’ll stand out and keep the reader guessing.

Mary and Dave got a new computer desk and offered to give Tom their old one. How nice of them. It’s a nice desk, too. Bigger than mine. But with all the crap that man has, he needs it way more than I do.

Mom also got her new adjustable bed. Normally I’d say that was a waste of money on someone who’s to be dead in a matter of months, but with the way she’s been hanging on and surprising everyone, you just never know. She may live for years. Her comfort is more important. It’s the quality of life that counts, not the quantity. Anyway, Dave said he’ll talk to his boss about borrowing his truck so they can haul it out here.

Today we went to Circle K and Dairy Queen. We hit Circle K first where Jennifer was behind the counter. I smiled at her as I walked in while she was in the middle of a yawn. When we were ready to pay for our stuff, I was in front of the next register, which was unattended, looking at their lottery tickets. Tom brought my attention back to focus and said to put my stuff over where she was. Laughingly, she said something about being able to help us over there, and then she yawned and yawned while Tom dug out money and she gave him the change. After I’d walked out of the store and gotten into the car, I glanced back and saw her leaning on her elbows at the counter, gazing out at me. Well, not quite at me, but in my general direction.

Dan’s continuing to be an obnoxious little shit. Thank God he didn’t gun his engine like this while we were in the trailer! Anyway, this little fuck waited till just after the sun set today to come out and gun his engine for about three hours. Three fucking hours! How the fuck long is this shit gonna go on?! Is this to be an everyday thing now? And if it stops, how long will it stop for? A week at the most? I wish this fuck would get out of here, but with my shit luck, it won’t leave till June. When it does, I’ll bet that’s when God will sic the renters on me in some way. Or maybe even next door. It may be dead quiet compared to any other place I’ve lived, and I may love it here, but I can’t believe we get all this noise from this one single guy! He’s just too lonely to be out here.

Anyway, you don’t know how much it means to me to finally, after 34 years, be able to say that I love my home and where I live. There were a few times, back in different apartments I had, that I thought I was going to love living there, but for various reasons, my love for the place was very short-lived.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2000
Typical, typical, predictable cumless sex. Yeah, that’s what we just had, but it was still nice. Before that, we took a bath together. It took some time for Tom to get into the tub because the water was so hot. We could both fit in the tub, but barely. It’s pretty much the same length as a regular tub. It’s just wider.

Tom finished all the caulking and it looks a lot better.

They’re still swearing we’re gonna get stormed on, but I have yet to see it. According to the weather satellite, it shouldn’t get here till late tonight, but I don’t know. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Later…

Dan, you fucking cock! Go to Indiana, you obnoxious bastard! God, this cock gets on my nerves at times! I’m sitting there, gazing out the window, trying to relax in peace, and he’s gotta come out and go engine-gunning. It’s super windy out and practically dark, yet it’s still out there gunning up a storm. What’s he doing playing truck and engine in this wind anyway? And how can he see? See, this tells me he simply got lonely with no one to see or talk to during the 3-day weekend and just went out to sit in his truck and gun the engine to be heard. That’s all he wanted. Meanwhile, I’d bet my dolls that there’s not a damn thing wrong with his truck.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2000
Today’s wind is unbelievable. Most of the time it is windy out here, but this is like - wow! Dirt’s flying everywhere. It’s not coming from the back of the house like it usually does, though. It’s coming from the utility side of the house towards where next door is. They say there’s rain behind it and Tom thinks it’ll rain tomorrow, but I don’t know. If it does, I hope I’m awake to see it. Plus, the sooner it rains, the sooner we can find out where it’s gonna leak in here.

Anyway, with this wind, I guess we’re gonna have a hard time hearing Dan’s 3:30 Sunday music session.

Later…

I had to take Benadryl cuz my allergies were going off. Fortunately, because it’s towards the start of my day, I’m not that drowsy from it.

No music at all today.

Anyway, I’m just waiting till he gets himself closer toward the end of his day so he can be tired when we screw and have an easier time holding back. God, I am not in the mood for another predictable, even boring session in bed!

Later…

Now my schedule’s really screwed up. The Benadryl did knock me out for a couple of hours, after all. I used this as an excuse to postpone sex since I just couldn’t get in the mood for the usual menu in bed. Tom’s being his usual self about it; handling it oh so well. Too well. Anyway, I’m sure the Air Force will shake me back on schedule within a week or two.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2000
Weekends around here are to be filled with music. My music. Yeah, those are the days I’ll be recording off the satellite, not that I won’t ever do it during the week as well.

My last period came a week early and it looks like this one’s gonna be a week early, too. That is unless I’m just having spots that I sometimes get a week or two before my period. This month I didn’t have any pains in my lower right side, nor did I get runny.

Today Tom decided that he’d relax with the TV and computer and not have any sex since a guy can’t relax during sex. Tomorrow we’ll get together. He even suggested something I once suggested - taking a bath together in this huge tub.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 2000
Slept even later today, till 2:00.

Tom’s now on vacation. He left me a note (he was asleep when I got up) saying to wake him up when I ran out of gum and he’d go get me some since the grocery store didn’t have the kind I like. That’s really nice of him, but that’s OK. No need to wake him up over gum.

Well, the clouds keep coming, but they never drop any rain on us.

I let Ratsy and Scuttles out to run around at night. Scuttles has been so cute lately, the way he’s been playing with me like a little puppy would. He jumps and climbs all over me.

Last night I created a bunch of different funny effects with some of our pictures. I made a hilarious one of Tom where his face was so distorted.

Got through Thursday without a glitch, but I know, I know, it’s just a matter of time before behind us becomes a regular problem. It’s not gonna be because of people or animals, it’s gonna be because of music. Even the cheapest stereo can travel over here and penetrate these thick walls without a problem. I meant it when I said I’m not gonna take it. Not out here. I’ll be damned if the very thing I left Phoenix over is gonna follow me out here to begin the whole cycle over again till George sells. No freeloaders are going to take away from us the whole purpose of coming out here in the first place - so we can live in peace and not be forced to listen to other people and their music.

Later…

Tom woke up at 6:00 and we went to Circle K. It was a nice drive, driving into the cloudy sunset. It’s nice not to have the sun glaring at you for a change. The place wasn’t as mobbed as I thought it’d be for a Friday evening. I was bummed to see that my latest lust object wasn’t there. That is, till right when we were leaving. She was just coming around the corner of the building as we were heading to the car. I only saw her for a split second and she looked right at me, too. To be coming around the corner at that time tells me she was probably on break and out smoking a cigarette. They tend to smoke in that area when they’re on break.

Anyway, I got my caramel coffee, some gum, some Tic Tacs, and even some M&M’s. We got a couple of losing lottery tickets, too.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2000
So far my bad vibe for today has been a false alarm. I hope I’m not a day off. That happens sometimes.

I slept the latest I’ve slept in half a year and didn’t get up till noon.

Today’s got to be one of the windiest days out here. You can hear the wind howling. It’s constantly windy or breezy out here and I hope it won’t interfere with the outside work we want to do over his vacation. It’s too bad we’re too broke to do anything like go gambling. We’ll probably be broke for half or even most of the year, thanks to the hotels and Dennis.

I trimmed my bangs earlier. I just don’t have the patience to let them grow out. They’re a pain in the ass to deal with when they’re in my eyes and they look dorky.

Tom said they might not be flying much for a while because one of the planes crashed. He said they tend to ground all the planes until they can figure out what happened.

I forgot to mention that when Tom was at Mary’s, she showed him the pictures they took of us when we went over that day to get our gifts. I can just imagine how this fat ugly face with its double chin and sagging neck must’ve looked, although Tom said they said I looked great. What did he expect them to say? Gee, your wife got fat and is aging by the second? But he insisted that to them they’re the best pictures of me. Glad one of us thinks so. From what he told me, they were making fun of how Ryan looks these days. He says he’s gotten fat and sloppy-looking. He said there was this one picture of me he wanted to show me cuz it looked cool. He said I had red eyes and an evil grin on my face. I guess that the picture was taken right as my expression was changing.

Today it occurred to me that Paula never did call, after all. She must not have a phone. Either that or she’s in jail again.

There’s a little half-inch or so ledge at the base of the skylight which is part of its trim. I put one of the painted plates and a couple of other tiny knickknacks up there and it looks super cool.

Today I posed Bailey and Jade on the loveseat together. They look so cute.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2000
Tom’s gonna get off the road as soon as he can tomorrow, cuz for a week now, I’ve had a bad vibe about Thursday. I think it’ll be the usual problem, though. Stuff breaking around the house. It could have to do with the car, but who knows? We’ll just have to see.

The weather and temperature have changed drastically. Yesterday was warm and clear and today it’s cool and cloudy. Like 20º cooler. I still doubt it’ll rain any time soon, though.

Tom got an award for beating deadlines on jobs at work. They gave him another T-shirt with the bank logo on it. Wow, huh? He wishes they’d give money out as awards so the people could get what they wanted. Anyway, he’s on vacation after two more nights of work. One of the things he says he plans on doing during it is getting rid of the trash on the property. We’re certainly swamped in it.

This weekend he’s going to call about getting the Bowflex on credit and order the four CDs we’re required to buy before getting out of the CD club. They’ve been manipulating him by sending him discounts on CDs that don’t count towards the selections we’re required to buy, so he’s gonna call them and tell them, hey, cut it out and let us buy what we’re supposed to and be done with it.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2000
Today was Andy’s birthday. I hope it was good, for his sake.

Dan’s back with the engine-gunning trips again, but I figured as much. It was only for a couple of minutes each time, and then I could faintly hear a dog barking once the sun set too, but that’s it. Other than that, it’s dead quiet. The weekend was dead quiet too, save for a two-minute music spree that could’ve come from God only knows where. It was so windy that day. It was probably Dan, but who knows for sure?

Tom did his mom’s taxes today and she gave him $80 for it.

I guess it’s time for me to finally write about my suicide attempt back in 1983 at Valleyhead when I was 17. I don’t think I ever have written about it in detail yet. I don’t need to do it now, but I guess I will just for the record.

I just took a quick glance back in my 1992 file and it appears I began to write about it there. However, I disagree with how I said that a flashback is always something bad. Not necessarily. But then again, I’m finding a lot of my past writings to say stuff I no longer think, feel, believe, or agree with. Our opinions change throughout our lives, I guess.

I left off at the part where I walked into the room, and you know, I really don’t remember much detail. Not just because it happened so long ago, but because I couldn’t retain things in my mind as well as I could as I got older. I always had a good memory, but there’s still no comparison between my adult memory and my memory as a child. Anyway, all I know is I started to listen to music but then I felt a panic begin to boil within me but knew it’d be hopeless to try to reach out to anyone. No one cared, and those that did either weren’t available to me at that moment, or they just couldn’t do anything to help me. You know, as in getting me the fuck out of that hell hole. It was a small room with one set of bunk beds by the room’s only window. There was a dresser in front of the window. I stepped up on the lower bunk, then onto the dresser. I opened the window, yanked the screen out, and crouched down in the window sill. I don’t think I stood there more than a few seconds before I pushed off from the sill and let myself fall.

The fall and landing were horrible, of course. The fall seemed to last forever, and when I finally hit the ground, all the air had been literally knocked out of me and I gasped for breath for a few seconds after I hit the ground. I hit dirt with a thin layer of gravel over it. The lower part of my right palm was scratched and I knew instantly my arm was broken. It was swollen and the pain was intense. I lay on my side after I landed, unable to move. One of my shoes, including a beaded necklace, came off and landed nearby. I began to scream practically as soon as I hit the ground. A staff member whom I hated came running around the corner of the house, and as soon as she saw me, she doubled back into the house. I hated this particular staff member. She was totally unfit to be working with those with problems. She even had the nerve to taunt me about my weight when I got up to the 130s cuz of all the drugs they were doping me up with. After she left, the school nurse came out, instructing me not to move till the ambulance arrived.

I think I’ll stop the story there.

They didn’t boom me awake as I expected they would. At 3:00 I heard a couple of bangs that were probably sonic booms and that probably would’ve woken me up had I been asleep. Looks like they’ve changed schedules on me already.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2000
The bear died last night. We buried him today in an unmarked grave a little ways away from the ‘gates of heaven’ cemetery where the favorites go. Meanwhile, the bear was buried in the ‘gates of hell’. I can’t say I’ll miss that meanie.

We went to Circle K, but too soon to see Jennifer cuz Tom wanted to avoid the more crowded hours when people start getting off of work. She doesn’t come on till 3:00 from what I can tell, but we got there around 2:00. Jack, one of the friendliest cashiers, was there being his usual talkative self. This one was apparently in some type of accident since he can’t move very well or very fast. When we first started going to this Circle K he seemed rather distant, like he wasn’t friendly. That’s how Jennifer always seemed too, till the last time I saw her. Although I doubt she would have said a word to me or even noticed me if I hadn’t said hello first.

Tom and I were discussing the definition of ‘free will’. I had thought that free will meant that you could do what you wanted in life. He said that to him, free will doesn’t mean you can do just anything. He said you can choose whether or not to sit down or stand up, but that doesn’t mean you can choose to fly. So he’s saying that to him, you choose what’s available to you to choose from.

Tom had an old pair of headphones that I didn’t have an adapter for the jack on the portable CD player I used in the trailer and hotel (now I use it in the car). So he was kind enough to replace it with the proper size jack. I’m so glad he’s smart enough to be able to do things like this.

Little by little he’s been setting up his office.

I took a really cool picture of Tom today. I blew bubbles on him while he was at the computer and took his picture, so he looks like he’s sitting there surrounded by bubbles and it looks neat. Someone who didn’t know any better might not know they were bubbles.

I also took a few gorgeous sunset pictures. The sky was pink-red with some yellow-orange in it too, as the sun set behind the mountain.

Yesterday I fell asleep earlier so I didn’t sleep too late. Got up around 8:30. Instead of setting my alarm for tomorrow morning, I’ll let them boom me awake, cuz tomorrow’s a boom day. I can use the military to keep me on a schedule, too. Works just as well as any alarm clock. The question is, though, are they gonna boom over at 9:30? Or as late as noon?

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2000
He chose B. Talk about major fear and predictability! It’s amazing we’re even having sex more often, not that I expect it to last. Still, I’m not mentioning his not cumming. I’m gonna prove that he’s nothing but a liar, making one excuse after another. The reason he’s not cumming is cuz of him. It’s what he wants. Not what I, or anything else, is making him do. Nonetheless, having him the way he is is worth it, knowing I can never get pregnant. It’s a little extreme and I don’t know why a man would prefer to sacrifice cumming over getting on some form of contraceptive, but it works. I mean, I’d still never conceive if he came ten times a day, but it’s nice to know I have that added peace of mind and that God’s looking out for me, wanting me to have a life and be free.

When it comes to sleep and neighbors, well, that’s where God’s not looking out for me. Yeah, we had another visit from George, the guy who owns the ten acres behind us, and he left that same ominous feeling in the air that he left the first time around. I fell asleep at 1:00 and strange dreams woke me up at 6:00 and I couldn’t fall back asleep. At 9:00 or so, we were outside doing things. He was making a frame for his shed extension and I was painting the black wires at the sides of the house that connect the computers.

Then George came in. His sole purpose for visiting was to see if we’d offer him the right to share our well, but of course, we would never offer any such thing. He asked about the well and mentioned how good these two renters have been. I told him I was glad that things have been quiet with them. He told me he had to evict a Section 8 a few miles away cuz the lady was fighting with her husband and going out cussing up a storm. He hates to give up a Section 8, though. Great. Just great. So that confirms my worst fears and suspicions - subsidy is allowed out here. Also, if he hates to give up a Section 8, then all the more he’s gonna try harder to seek them out so he can stick them behind us, along with God’s help. Well, why not? The bangs have followed me out here (they’re just up in the sky this time), so why not the freeloaders, too? It’s like something up there wants my old life to follow me. I just can’t escape the past. Can’t escape worrying about being woken up, can’t escape subsidized, lazy assholes. Tom said, who cares if you get woke up a couple of times a week? Well, I’d rather not. Cuz then I just feel all yucky and am sluggish all day. I can’t always go back to sleep when I’m woken up, either. Tom also said, “So if rowdy subsidized people end up back there, the other renters will be likely to do something about them. It’ll be just like the old man’s house across the street in Phoenix.” Yeah, but that was still plenty close enough to hear their music and so are we. You know they’re gonna be home all day, blasting their music all day and all night, having a steady stream of company coming and going 24/7. And what do we do when the good renters move in a couple of years or so and get replaced with the same shitfucks so that all four lots can carry on and be heard 50 acres away? Tom doesn’t think they’ll ever be a problem or that the houses will have dozens of turnovers before George sells in 5-6 years like he said he’s going to, but then why do I have this gut feeling that spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e when it comes to behind us? It’s got to be for a reason. Another thing is that the wind usually travels from back to front. So that’ll enhance their noise as their antics are carried in on the wind.

I asked George when the other two houses will be arriving and he said sometime this year. Well, I meant it when I said that no neighbor ever again, especially a bunch of assholes that live off of my tax dollars only to turn around and shit on me for it, will fuck with me and disrupt my life till it’s basically ruined by nothing but stress and anger. I’ll be damned if more freeloaders are gonna live off of me while they fuck with my peace, sleep, and life, then run to the pigs crying racism cuz I had something to say about it, and expect it to end there. As soon as the subsidized blacks or Mexicans that I’ve run from find me and settle down behind me to repeat the same old shit they did in Phoenix at my expense, there’ll be no words from me. Not out of my mouth, not on paper, nowhere!

Old curses really do never go away. I still have to worry about when I sleep/get up, even though Tom says I shouldn’t worry about it. And now I have to worry about all the other shit I left in Phoenix finding me out here. And being this remote won’t stop them. They’re allowed to have cars. If you’re childless in subsidized apartments, that’s different. Then you can’t have anything and they won’t give you enough money to live on. If you’ve got kids, especially in a house, it’s a whole different story. They’ll give you the world in that case. You can have cars and enough money to live comfortably on, which makes these lazy Mexicans all the more determined to just sit on their asses, cuz they won’t be desperate to work since they won’t be starving in any way or hard up for bucks. Just look at that fat bitch in Phoenix. That takes an enormous amount of food which costs hundreds of dollars a month to make and keep a body that big. But the food stamps they gave me barely stretched through a month. If that Mexican bitch has about four kids, then she’d be getting about $2,400 a month. Almost twice what we have to work for which is $1,800! When I was on SSI they gave me barely $500 a month, but Paula’s getting over $1,000 all for having that kid. She can afford to pay market rent, bills, food, and car expenses, and she’s still got enough left over she doesn’t even need. I know God plans our destinies, but what the hell did he have in mind when it came to planning her life? Did he say, “Here, have a kid, beat the shit out of it, and I’ll make sure you’ve got more than enough money to live on so you never have to work?”

Anyway, there’s no sense in bitching about these freeloaders till they get here, and they will get here. What we’re gonna do as soon as we can get a fence up around the place. We didn’t have a fence or wall in Phoenix in front, so the filthy Mexicans’ trash could be thrown and blown into our yard easily. Not that they won’t deliberately dump shit over our fence, but this should help deter some of the trash they’re gonna bring in. Also, we’re sick of people being able to just drive up to the house. We want a remote-operated fence that no one can drive through without a remote. Lastly, once those freeloaders get here, the risk of getting burglarized is higher. Without a fence, they can just drive up to the house and load up, but it’d be a real pain in the ass with a fence. It would take forever to carry the shit out, even though there’d be 50 of them to help, cuz where there’s one Mexican there’s 50. They multiply like cockroaches.

I swear, we need to not only ban welfare, we need to give the freeloaders their own place to live. They just can’t get along with people. They just can’t productively mingle in society. They’re too destructive and downright mean. Not that there aren’t some pretty horrid white people, but still, if you put them all together so they have only each other to fuck over, they can’t cry racism and use that as a crutch or an excuse to do wrong.

Later…

We sanded down the guest room door so it can close normally now.

Tom came out and surprised me, although I don’t believe him for a minute. He said he’s gonna write a story, too. It’ll be science fiction and computer-related. I know he could write a story. He could probably write one way better than I ever could, but I can’t imagine him wanting to. I didn’t think writing was one of his favorite things to do or that he’d have the patience for it, given all the other things he likes to do. Or has to fix. I won’t count on it, but I hope he does. It’d be neat to write books together.

Later…

I asked Tom if he thought the Mexicans in Phoenix would suddenly change and become a bit nicer and more considerate if they suddenly owned the house. He said yes because that’s then affecting something of theirs. But why do they even have to be so loud, rude and selfish in the first place? Just because they rent? That’s no excuse to carry on the way they do, just because the house isn’t theirs. Why can’t they just get along with people and act like normal, civilized human beings, whether they rent or own?

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2000
Saw the second episode of The Others. It was good. Ten more shows or so then they’ll repeat them over and over for the rest of this century.

Last night I heard what sounded like a truck passing by Ralston or Meadow Green twelve different times from about 8 PM to midnight. I thought it was on those streets, anyway, and thought it weird that there’d be that much traffic on those streets. We’re the only house so far on this street but this street does lead to other streets. Tom, though, reminded me that sound carries at night and said that they might not have been traveling on the streets alongside our property. That may explain why I never saw any vehicles when I looked out the windows.

As I mentioned before, our oven’s self-cleaning, and boy does it work great! It takes a few hours and it stinks, but it works.

Our schedules clashed today, and it was because of him and not me. He can’t help it, though, what with how he switches to days on weekends. So, when I got up at 11:00, he was pretty much at the end of his day, but he pushed himself to stay up till late afternoon, saying he was too tired to screw and wanted to wait till tomorrow. I think he’s just stalling for time on doing something he doesn’t feel comfortable doing at this time, but fine. The only thing about it is that tomorrow’s sex unless there’s some other excuse to prevent it from happening is going to be the most predictable ever. It really takes the fun out of it to know that he’s either A, not going to allow himself in me, or B, he’ll allow it but he won’t cum.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2000
Nothing broke today, but I didn’t appreciate the sonic booms waking me up at 9:45 this morning like they did. I come all the way to this remote area just to still have my sleep at risk. I tell you, the curse that was put on my sleep in 1992 will never be reversed. So God’s supplemented my loss of bangers for boomers, huh? Well, as much as it pisses me off to be controlled by outside forces and to see God allowing it to happen, there is a bright side to it. First of all, it’s obvious that for some reason, which can only be due to my book, as much as I can’t see God letting me do what I want with my life for a change, something still wants me on a schedule. I mean, if they’re gonna be booming around 2-3 times a week, there’s no way I could just let my schedule go naturally where it wants to without being woke up anyway. Again, I’m not sure why it wants me on a schedule nowadays, but I can only guess. It was obvious when we left Phoenix why I was meant to be on a schedule then. It knew I couldn’t handle the move/trailers/hotels on a crazy schedule, so it had to give me the strength I lacked for over a decade, along with the melanin’s help. Then there’s also the fact that I don’t exactly want to go back to my old ways with the wacky schedule. So I won’t see too many sunrises here. No big deal. I’ll have to set my clock for 9:00 every weekday and go to bed around midnight-1 AM, instead of 2 AM-3 AM like I have been lately. Getting up between 10 AM-noon just won’t cut it with these things ruling the sky. Weekends might be different. As far as I know, they don’t do training on weekends, so I won’t set my alarm then. I don’t know if their schedule will fluctuate. I mean, they’d never make their schedule public so that other countries can’t watch what they do and learn the military’s ways of defense, so wouldn’t this mean their schedule would fluctuate to throw spies off? So far, they only seem to fly 2-3 times a week between the hours of 9 AM-noon. Is this a new thing? I mean, is this particular route a new thing that began as soon as we moved into the house? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. I said we’d hear more and more things as we got into the house, and I find it awfully hard to believe they were on vacation for that long. I can see them taking a week off around Christmas, but all of November and all of December? I didn’t even hear them when we first got out here towards the end of October. I’m not saying the military’s out to get me and that this is all because of me, but I’m sure God factored in my moving here into his allowing this route to exist. Do you think that house next to us in Phoenix would’ve become a city-owned house if I weren’t next door to it? Somehow, I highly doubt it. I just highly doubt it. That reminds me - what if those bitches were white? What would Mr. Bias have done then? I’d still feel the same way about them for harassing me with noise just because they were white and I’d have still sent them a letter letting them know it, too. So who would have come out to waste time and gas to drag me in to discuss it then? Someone from the nasty letters unit?

Anyway, back to the schedule - I kind of don’t want to go back to my old ways, even if I could sleep with no problem, because then I’d have the problem I had before where our schedules would clash and it’d be hard on him to try to adapt to my schedule, and where it made going out hard. The same thing is available to me during the day that’s available to me at night, only more. In the daytime, I have visibility for if I want to go outside.

Mondays are going to be my day to get out of the house and go to Circle K (we can also go to other places if we want) for my favorite white caramel coffee and our lottery tickets (not to mention seeing Jennifer). It’s a waste of time, I know since we’re not destined to win anything bigger than a few bucks. Certainly no more than a hundred bucks, if even that. There are two games we play. The smiley face game is where you try to scratch three of the same numbers, or two of the same numbers and a smiling face. And the maze game which is pretty cool.

Another stress-free, freeloader-free weekend - yes! Oh, I’m not saying I won’t hear from Dan this weekend, our little lonely boy. Unless his boyfriend comes to visit, he may want us to listen to music with him or hear his engines. I’ll take it over a herd of assholes and their music just three feet away. I’d bet my dolls on the fact that those Mexicans, or at least their mistakes, are out running around right now in front. Then again, who knows? I still think they may have settled down upon my moving, unless God wants the H’s to be cursed with noise, too. Even if he did, though, would they mind? Probably not, or else it wouldn’t be considered a curse. I don’t know them well enough to judge, but I have a feeling they wouldn’t mind nearly as much as I did. The only other thing I’ve heard so far is just our typical distant late-night shoot-outs with the coyotes or whatever the hell they’re shooting at. It’d be way louder in the trailer.

Sex last night wasn’t shitty, but it was typical. The better kind of typical, though. I didn’t have to do any work. I got to just lay there and be lazy. He lay humping himself against me for a while, and then we screwed. I knew he wouldn’t cum, though, at this time of month and it was obvious by the slow, controlled way of his movements that he was working at restraining himself. Whatever turns him on!

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 2000
Bad things are supposed to happen in threes. Well, yesterday the well conked out on us for a while, then Tom got another flat tire on the way to work, so I suppose that means I’m in for a bout of shitty sex tonight. We were gonna screw last night, but thanks to the well taking up his time and sleep, and thanks to that putting me in a foul mood, we didn’t get around to it. You’d think I was ovulating last night, but all God and Tom have to do is just see to it that he doesn’t cum when I’m supposedly ovulating, and I couldn’t get pregnant even if I were fertile.

I cleaned for a few hours on and off today, concentrating mainly on the kitchen and baths. That’s what I normally have planned for Thursdays, anyway.

I also handwrote a letter to Paula since I still don’t have ink cartridges and I gave her our number. I’m sure I’m going to live to regret that too, cuz during the times she has a phone, I’m sure she’ll be a regular little Andy M, calling nearly every day, but if I don’t want to chat, I just won’t pick up. I wonder if she read all I sent her in that big envelope. If she did, cool. If she didn’t, I understand she may have gotten bored with it. After all, all I did was bitch about how the incompetent, asshole cocks were holding us up from getting in the house and fucking us over.

I’m having a little note sent to Tom at the PO Box, cuz I’m curious to see what the postmark says.

I’ve changed the decor inside the house from what I used to have in other places I lived. It’s still youthful and colorful, but there is a bit more maturity to it than there used to be. It’s less gaudy and I’ve hung up my celebrity pictures. Dolls and southwestern stuff are what the main decorations are now that I’ve developed more of a taste over the years for decoration themes. In the past, I’d put any wall-hanging and any knickknack anywhere, but not anymore. Now I’m picky about what I put where.

It’s not even mid-February and already the days are getting longer and warmer. It made it to just over 80º in here right before the sun sunk below the mountain. Another degree or two and I’d have AC’d it.

Speaking of Andy - do I miss him? No, I do not. I’ll always remember him and wish him the best in my heart and mind, and I’ll cherish the fonder and fun memories I have of him, but I just don’t regret or feel guilty about cutting him off. Maybe some people would say I should or maybe some people would understand why I did what I did, but I did what I had to do and am OK with it. I figured I would be or else I probably wouldn’t have done it. As for the family, still to this day, despite my sending pictures of the house/land, I certainly have absolutely no regrets. I had to break that abusive cycle. Andy wasn’t downright abusive, though. He was annoying and selfish, but nothing compared to the family. Another reason I had to let go of Andy was because of the drugs. In this day and age and with having a husband, I couldn’t afford to risk getting pulled over in his car with him and his pot even though it never happened before. The only reason I sent mail to the family was that I wanted to speak my mind in a way that was best for me where I wouldn’t be interrupted or hung up on. So unless they didn’t read it or it got lost in the mail or misdelivered, they know how I feel. After the pictures of the house, land, us, animals, and dolls get mailed to them, it’ll probably be a very long time before I ever contact them again, if I ever even do so again. The only one I regret not being in regular contact with is Lisa.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2000
Tom just went to bed and I’m to get him up at 9:00 for some kind of problem in bed. Yeah, we’re looking at all kinds of excuses coming up this next week as I head into the mid-cycle zone. If I’d only known, I’d have made sure I was on birth control when we met since I can’t get pregnant anyway, but now it’d be useless. That’s because he’d go out of his way to stay the way he is as a cover. Why doesn’t he just not do it if he doesn’t want to or if he’s got problems?

This weekend he’s going to be helping Mary set up the new computer she’s getting, and doing Ma’s taxes. Not that I don’t want him to after all they’ve done for us, but that’s so God if you know what I mean; to have him do this on the weekend I might be fertile if I wasn’t infertile. I swear, it’s like God’s acting as if I can conceive, but that he’s doing things to make sure it doesn’t happen. For the thousandth time, though, why work so hard? Just have me need a hysterectomy and it’s a done deal. No more having to plan for him to be tied up or to have problems.

At the same time I don’t want a kid because I don’t want the hassles, burdens, and responsibilities that go with that, I’m pissed that I’ll never know for sure, despite what my vibes say if I could’ve gotten pregnant if he had cum regularly. I try not to be, cuz I know I’m not meant to have a kid. I know I was wrong about being meant to quit smoking, get on a schedule, etc., but you can’t always be wrong about things any more than you can always be right. I know this one for a fact. I’ve known it deep down since I was a little girl that I’d never have kids and I’d bet my life on it with sheer confidence.

Anyway, anything I was ever pissed at his ma for is all in the past and done and over with as far as I’m concerned. No, I couldn’t say that for my own ma because the things done to me were way worse than simply being used for time and money, and you’re talking over 30 years’ worth of major mental abuse. What Dureen and Art have done to me and put me through is unforgivable and unforgettable as far as I’m concerned, and to reunite with them would be reuniting with the same old cycle of abuse.

As I put together my final set of pictures to be printed out for Dureen, Art, and Tammy once I get new cartridges, I noticed the floor plan of this house says it’s 28’ wide. I had thought it was 26’ wide. It’s definitely 76’ long, though.

I seem to have had a bit of a sinus infection over the last couple of days, but it was so mild. All it did was make my throat a little sore, give me a pressure headache, and make me feel a bit rundown. At Tom’s advice, I took yesterday and today off from cleaning.

I was right about my theory about God trying to tell me I didn’t need the inhalers by having it get harder and harder for me to get them. I don’t need them. All I need is the over-the-counter inhaler I got called Primatene Mist. It helps with the tightness.

We now know what his “rumbles” are. At least we’re pretty sure we do. It’s a sonic boom by fighter jets that travel faster than the speed of sound. Regular commercial airplanes fly at around 400 MPH which is slower than the speed of sound. Neither of us is sure what the speed of sound is, but anyway, these jets fly anywhere from 500-1500 MPH, higher than regular planes where you can’t hear the plane’s engines. We just didn’t know they were allowed to do this over land. He said he’ll check online to see where the nearest Air Force base is. I had woken up right before a group of rumbles and he ran outside as soon as he heard it and said it was definitely not the house any more than a big vehicle. He said you could tell it was coming from outside the house and could feel pressure in the air which is what makes the house vibrate. His other theory was that maybe a mountain was being blasted to put a road through, but I’d go with the sonic boom theory first. When you’re awake, it actually sounds and feels kind of neat. It’s better than some rap-blasting freeloader who doesn’t give a shit or is deliberately trying to provoke you. What I don’t get, though, is why did this start when we got in the house? Why not before in the trailer? Did they just start training nearby, or what? If it isn’t sonic booms or any type of construction, then we might be looking at some poltergeist activity.

Later…

Still playing the fix-it game. God just won’t leave us alone. Not even for one week straight. It’s the well again, as usual, and as expected. My vibes say it’ll be a problem 1-3 times a week until we can get water tanks out here and abandon it for a more reliable source of water. Then God can break the car more often or attack the appliances in the house. I knew this was a $12,000 piece of shit that would be one problem after another. What if Tom can’t fix it this time around? Then what do we do? Go to a hotel? I don’t sense it, thank God, but who knows?

Because the weather was so beautiful, I wanted to take advantage of it before it got too hot, so I went around and opened some windows. I thought I found the bee that stung me sitting on the den window sill, but after I picked it up with tweezers and took a close look at it, it still had its stinger.

It’s so beautiful gazing out at the quiet, peaceful landscape. No dogs barking, not a peep out of Dan, no nothing. When I look out my office window, it’s sad to know that houses will block the view of the distant mountains where Chandler’s city lights glow and a row of distant palm trees that are on a nearby farm in just a few years.

I was so sure that it’d rain yesterday, but the wind came and blew the clouds away before they could open up on us. Tom said it’ll rain next week cuz that’s when Mary’s having a new roof put on (at least she can hire someone to do it for her), but I don’t know. Mary’s been cursed, but I don’t know if she’s as cursed as we’ve been. I think she has a better chance of getting better weather and a more competent crew. We’ll see, though. As selfish as this will sound, since I love Mary dearly and wouldn’t want to see her go through any shit of any kind, at least if she does get rained on or fucked over - it’s her problem and not ours. It’s nice to know that for a change, it’s out of our hands to have to deal with.

Later…

This time the well’s problem was a cheap part Gravity installed in the box on the power pole outside, which Tom’s gonna replace. He said the well’s not the problem. All it is is a hole in the ground with water at the bottom. It’s the parts up top that are the problem. Yeah, but the well is still a cursed object. That much I do know. It’s going to be a problem regularly and we don’t need it. But if we resort to hauling water, that’ll just take up the same amount of time it takes us to fix the well. What is this? A case of God not wanting us to get out of having to put the time into a water source? Is that why we have sonic booms here, too? Cuz God knows stereos don’t go banging by? (yet) Why does God always feel the need to make up the difference? No matter where we went, something would take up our time and something would be a noise source to us. Fine. We’ll keep the sonic booms and gunshots. Just as long as it doesn’t disrupt our lives. But the well - give us a break! We’ve had enough of the fix-it shit!! Let us live our lives. Just let us live our lives, damn it!

Anyway, speaking of our booms, Tom went online and discovered that they’re allowing jets to fly supersonic in lots of states. They’re not allowed to fly supersonic over Phoenix, which is why we’ve got them out here. They can only go over more remote areas. People have filed lawsuits about it, but it would never do them any good. Boys just have to be boys, and they’re like - tough. We’ve got to train these people.

Like I said, as long as they don’t do this for hours every day, smash our windows, or interfere with my sleep, it’s fine.

Tom told me an interesting story, and we also made a bet that naturally, I’ll win by a landslide. He said he’s told a lot of people about this, but someone put a curse on him in the late 70s when he was around 20, but he doesn’t remember who, where, or why. I thought he was putting me on at first, but he swears it’s true and that a guy at the race track once offered to buy his soul in exchange for better gambling luck. He said the guy said he’d give him tickets to Vegas to prove himself to him, but naturally, Tom was like - no thanks. I never heard of anyone capable of buying another person’s soul before. And why would they want to? Also, if they could make someone lucky at gambling, wouldn’t they want that person to be themselves? He doesn’t think this is the same person who put the curse on him. Who in the world would want to put a curse on Tom S, a man who gets along with everyone and that everyone likes, and how and why did they do it? He’s so sure of it, too. It made me wonder if someone put my curse on me, but I think my curse is all God’s doing and that it’s a generational curse that goes back God only knows how far. There’s no doubt our family was/is cursed. Doe had a negative bitch for a mother, Art had major health problems, me and my siblings went through hell with Doe as a mother, then Tammy has man/child problems, Sandy miscarries in her eighth month of pregnancy, Larry’s kid gets killed, and I’m not allowed to have a child if I want to, not to mention all the shit I went through with my health, staff members, neighbors, etc. That ain’t no “bad luck.”

Tom accepts his curse. He doesn’t like it, but he says there’s no point in dwelling on something that just is and that all he can do is just live with it. True, we can’t get rid of our curses as far as I know, but why are we cursed? Who did this to us and how did they do it? What person or thing could be so heartless and cruel? This thing’s allowed some pretty vicious things to happen to us. To put me through the wanting a kid for years - how can anyone do that to a woman? That’s practically inhumane and certainly no way for a woman to live! That’s so incredibly mean!

Anyway, I asked Tom if I was the only woman he didn’t cum regularly with and he said yes. Figures. Thanks, God. He says a big part of it is because of how we started; because we couldn’t just screw right away. Yeah, but isn’t that far enough in the past? Shouldn’t he have gotten over that and moved on by now? I never would’ve believed that my having to start slowly would have such an impact on him. However, we can screw just fine now and have been for years. It’s true that I didn’t think he’d be able to get inside me at first what with how big he is and how small I was as well as with my lack of experience. I’d only had it with a guy a dozen or so times before we met. And then I was limited for a while to what positions we did. I still have trouble being on top of him and doggy-style is impossible. Anyway, he said that some of the girls he’s been with were on birth control and some weren’t. Whatever. I don’t know what to believe. I mean, knowing how cursed I’ve always been when it comes to getting those I lusted for and for having good, problem-free sex, I can believe that yes, I’m the first one he’s been this way with. At the same time, though, it’s so hard for me to picture Tom cumming regularly. It just doesn’t seem like him and is hard to imagine.

Anyway, he still swears that if I go 30 days without mentioning it, we’ll screw 2-3 times a week and he’ll cum once a week. Uh-huh. And my hair will turn platinum blond, too. OK, OK, I said. Let’s settle this debate once and for all, but I say he’ll be just like he usually is if I went years without saying anything about it. So we bet that if I’m right after the 30 days, plus four weeks of seeing how the sex goes (and I’m sure he’ll have some excuse as to why he wasn’t right, like how busy he was, although God may see to it that this ends up to be true, knowing what we’re up to), I get Meli after April 7th. If he’s right he gets the faster Internet connection (satellite) before I get another doll. Well, I couldn’t be surer than I am of my social security number that I’m going to win this bet.

He went out to check the well’s pressure and said he could hear Dan and another male voice talking and that it was brightly lit up over there. He said he could hear the voices, but not make out their words. Ah, is Dan’s male companion a new boyfriend? I think he’s gay. I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me if he were.

The Dan at the joke of a well-drilling business is finally going to be hearing from me. I’ve had it with keeping my mouth shut regarding that lying incompetent piece of shit that’s caused us so much time, money, hassles, and mental anguish. I wanted to let him know just how lucky he is that I didn’t do more than send him a letter letting him know what a stupid con he is, and that I don’t care if he went to the police with the letter. I’m sure he will too since everyone out here seems to run to the cops whenever they have a problem with someone. No one fights their own battles. Anyway, no cop is gonna stop me from speaking my mind, and there was nothing I wrote in that letter that could bring any legal battles against me. I dare the cops to step out of line and come to me about this letter. In fact, I hope they do so I can be a pretty rich person, cuz I’ll sue the fucking shit out of them if they have the nerve to bullshit their way into this house to drag me to a station in Tonopah where Dan’s scam of a business is. I have a right to speak my mind and to think, feel, and believe as I do and I spoke out in a legit, harmless way. I didn’t bother to sign it or put a return address. The cock will know who it is unless it’s even ten times dumber than I thought it was. Here’s a copy of it:

Howdy there,

Just wanted to drop you a line and have a heart-to-heart with you, Dan. After all, they say confession’s good for the soul. Let’s just say that you’re the biggest lying, incompetent asshole I’ve ever known! You stupid, stupid cock. Not even your son has shit for brains like you do. First you lied to us about how deep you needed to drill our well just so you could get the bid, then you lied to us about when you’d do the well, then you had the nerve to lie to us yet again and tell us it’d take 3-4 days to be completed when it took you about 2 months. And you stupidly screwed up a million times along the way. You ran us dry paying for hotels when we could’ve and should’ve been in the house 6-8 weeks sooner than we were. You caused us a ton of lost sleep and mental anguish, and if it wasn’t for my husband I’d be doing a lot more than just giving you a piece of my mind, and I don’t care if you go to the police with this letter. I have a right to speak my mind about your joke of a business. You’re a con and I intend to have you and your fellow crooks out of business soon enough. There’s no excuse for the money and time you’ve cost us, not to mention the fact that we haven’t even had the well for a damn month and already it’s a constant problem. Fuses are blowing, wires are shorting, etc. Thanks for making our lives the living hell you made it, fucker!

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2000
I just scared four huge dogs away. I’ve seen them before, too.

Scuttles is now bigger than Ratsy who’s going bald. Yeah, Ratsy’s fur is really thinning out. He’s getting old.

I heard an owl hooting last night when I was in the master bathroom. I was surprised to learn they even had owls out here. It was a neat sound to hear.

I can’t believe the dentist’s flower is still alive. How long do these things live?

Dan blared his TV for Tom on his way in from work yesterday at 5 AM. And for anyone else that may have been up and about to hear it. He said it could’ve been a radio, but couldn’t be sure. He said he thought it was Dan because he was the only one with lights on. I’m sure it was. Like I said, this is a city-raised boy. And not only is he a city boy, but he’s obviously very lonely. Tom said, “Obviously you’re lonely if you’ve got to come over to chat just because there’s a tractor there.” Some of it may have been natural curiosity, but why does he live way out here if he’s so lonely and in need of attention? Shouldn’t he be in the city? That’s the place to go if you want others to hear and notice you. That’s where you go to blast music, TVs, and engines.

Maybe a girlfriend will settle him down. Or a boyfriend. He should be leaving for Indiana in March or April. Watch. With my shit luck, this will be the first summer he starts renting his place out while he’s gone. Renting it out to loud scumbags the world needs to get rid of.

When I said he played his TV loud for Tom, I meant that he probably knew he was coming in around that time. He strikes me as the kind of lonely guy, with nothing better to do, that would spy on all his neighbors. By now he probably has Tom’s schedule down pat and knew that he’d be in at that time and could get his attention and acknowledgment.

Since I got up late this morning, it’s been pretty cloudy out there. We often get some clouds rolling in, but still no rain. Except for that two-hour drizzle spell, this is the longest stretch between rain since I’ve been out here. We’re talking six months now. A very dry winter, that’s for sure. I can’t wait for the monsoons. Those storms out here ought to be so cool and I still want to see the water run down the wash. And find out where it’ll leak in here. At least if it does, and the old leak curse does follow us here, we can call Palm Harbor. We had no one to call in PHX.

Tom went to visit his mom today and I was pleasantly surprised to hear that they’re excited about my story. Tom said Evelyn asked about it. Wait till I burst their bubble with all the rejection letters I get. I don’t know, though. I still kind of feel this is destined to end up published, but we’ll see. It’s probably just a case of wishful thinking. After all, I was so sure that just because God gave me a voice, I was destined to be a singer. I’m glad that didn’t happen, though. I’d have hated the lifestyle. I prefer singing at home the way I want to and the songs I want to. Anyway, once the story’s finished, whether or not it gets published, I’ll let them have a copy.

Getting any kind of money for it is something I certainly can’t hope for or count on, though. I can draw, but that doesn’t mean he wants me to do that, too. Other than for fun, I mean. If there’s anything in life I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t always use something just because you’ve got it. Just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you can have babies if you want to, just because you can act doesn’t mean you’re meant to be an actress, just because you can skate doesn’t mean you’re meant to skate for a living, etc.

Now it’s about time I wrote about Jennifer, one of the managers at Maricopa’s Circle K. I first saw her, of course, when we started coming out here regularly. She works the second shift from what I can tell. She has an ugly face, boring hair, and a weird-sounding voice, yet there’s something about her. Her body is nice and she’s got that brownish color I like. She may be Mexican, but I’m not sure. She’s not much taller than me and she always has her dark hair in a ponytail. It’s not that long, maybe just below her shoulders. She has dark eyes and thick glasses. She looks sort of cross-eyed. Like I said, her face is nothing worth looking at, but her body and the way she moves are. She never seemed very friendly or like she had much of a sense of humor. She seemed a lot like Melanie. Yesterday, however, was different. I said hello to her and she smiled and cheerfully said hello back and asked how I was. I don’t think Circle K employees stay around that long, so it’ll be a bummer once she’s either fired or quits.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 2000
Last night I wasn’t going to take any Melatonin, but by 3:30, I was too tired to do anything and sick of just laying in bed, so I took it. I thought I’d sleep till noon or later, but was up at 10:00. I slept forever yesterday, so I was caught up. Tom, of course, was up when I got up.

I’m not in a very good mood right now. Perhaps that’s because he’s gonna have us get together later and I know there’s going to be a problem/excuse, as usual. Each year that goes by gets harder for me. I feel no excitement and never look forward to sex. All I do is dread it. It stresses me out. As always I ask myself what I should do about it. What can I do about it? I either have to just live with it or avoid it. I mean, the sex we have will never change, so it’s a take-it-or-leave-it situation.

Out of sheer curiosity, and although I’m happy with the way things turned out, I sometimes wonder - what if there really is no outer force that’s kept me from conceiving? And what if my plumbing really is OK? What if it’s been all because of his lack of cumming all along?

I doubt it. I mean, I find that tremendously hard to believe. I’m pretty positive something out there plans each step we take in life. If it weren’t for my experiences, as well as the experiences of others, I wouldn’t believe it.

He tells me he wants to either stall or avoid Evie, David, and the kids visiting because they’re weird and David will want to do stuff on the computers and drive Tom nuts. But he’s supposed to love computers.

I think it’s the kids. I really do. I think he’s afraid of having to deal with my bitching about when the kids break something, and I’m sure he also fears the kid’s visit will get me wanting our own kid and bitching about his not cumming, but this just wouldn’t be the case. I’d move all the breakables, and I wouldn’t want our own kid just because they visited. I don’t want him to cum either, if he doesn’t want to. I just want him to stop bullshitting me and to tell me he’s not in the mood to screw, rather than play the I-just-can’t-get-in-there game. He doesn’t need to conveniently forget how to fuck. He doesn’t need to make up false injuries, either. All he needs to do is tell me he’s not in the mood.

There’s a new series out called The Others. If they can stick to the topic and not turn it into a show all about pregnancy and childbirth, then I’ll be looking forward to watching it every week. Of course, though, there’ll only be 10-15 episodes made. Not 200 like they used to with series. It’s about a group of psychics who have experiences similar to mine. Thank God there’s one thing I can’t relate to and that’s possession. That’d scare the shit out of me to be possessed.

Later…

Tom’s putting sex off as usual. He tends to wait till the end of his day or till close to when he has to go to work. I’m sure he’ll want to spend some time in the bathroom before we screw, too.

Later…

“I was having a hard time staying on the bed,” was his excuse this time around. “You should’ve moved,” I told him. “I’m not very coordinated,” he said.

Anyway, at least he went in there. I used lots of KY, too. Although I enjoyed the few minutes he was in me, it was also boring and predictable. I felt like we were just going through the motions with no real feeling. What else is new, though, huh? Another week and God will be acting like I’m fertile and in need of prevention. Tom will be way too scared to cum and God will stand by making sure he doesn’t, as if I could conceive if he did but was at the wrong time in life to be doing that. Again, why not just have me have to have a hysterectomy, God?

I asked Tom what he’d do if I was naïve upon meeting him and never knew or mentioned his not cumming. He said he’d assume I knew. But what if I apparently didn’t? I asked him. I’d never lie to you, he said. I still don’t believe him for a minute, though. I think that no matter how dumb and naïve I seemed and no matter how much I seemed to believe he was cumming, he’d never spill the beans on me and tell me the truth.

Later…

No engine gunning this weekend. Just music. Yeah, you heard right, but don’t act surprised. I told you we’d hear people’s music and whatever, regardless of how remote we are. And this was just barely on the edge of my range of hearing too, so wait till it gets louder and more obvious. The longer we’re here, the noisier it’ll get. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but I’m sure it was Dan. If he gets any louder, he’s got to go. Tom said that what with the way the wind’s blowing it could be coming from four miles away. Could be, but I doubt it.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2000
Today’s visit went great. Tom’s been up since 3:30, so he went to bed early. Like an hour or so ago. I guess I can finally take a break from my schedule and not take a Melatonin tonight for the first time in half a year. It’ll be interesting to see how many hours I end up staying up.

Anyway, they came without getting lost and having to call to be led in. They brought a hot-air balloon puzzle, and a small vase of pink flowers, which was very nice of them. They also brought me a small bag of cheese puffs. They all loved the house, but I doubt they’d want to live this remote. I can see Mom visiting sometime, though. Especially if Mary and Dave want to go away somewhere. They liked the dolls and even checked out the animals. They’d never touch them, though.

Mom had to see the house in spurts, that’s how big it is and how out of breath she gets. They came in the front door because it was the easiest way in with the wheelchair. They keep her wheelchair in the car and once she’s in houses/buildings, she uses a cane or a walker. After she was pulled up into the house, she got up and walked with her walker to see the bedroom, project, and animal room, then she had to take a break in the den. She’s still pretty shaky and had to drink out of this really cool cup. Since she’d just shake any liquids out of a regular cup, they got her a cup with a cap on top and a built-in straw that stems from the bass of the cup. She was pretty quiet during the visit and not once did she mention Evie’s kids. I was surprised. We talked mostly about computers and TV, then Tom took Mary and Dave outside to see the well. While they were out, Ma went to see the animals and my office. She too, likes Indian dolls. I thought she’d like Bailey the best, but she liked Asha the best; the crying Indian doll. When they came back, we chatted some more until they left. They spent about two hours visiting.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 2000
Today was a better day than yesterday.

To our utter amazement, the Mexican that came (two hours early without calling first) actually did fix the broken outlet. And without breaking anything else in the process, too. He offered to do caulking, and whatever cosmetic work we may want, but we just want these people out of our lives. We started doing their work for them, so we may as well finish.

Until they break, it is sooo nice to have both a washer and a dryer. Large capacity ones that can be run simultaneously. The comforters fit in the washer just fine. There’s even a bit of extra room. They’re still a bitch to dry, though, cuz you gotta keep on pulling it out and rearranging it so spots that are still wet can dry.

All that just to get a washer and a dryer. It’s ridiculous! This is what I mean about God making us pay dearly for the everyday things in life. Why couldn’t we have just bought the fucking things, plugged them in and used them? Why did it have to be such a big deal?

We talked to Mary and we’re still on for having her, Dave and Mom visit tomorrow. They’ll be here around 2:00. We bought extra water and soda, and even some sugar-free (she’s a diabetic) Jell-O for Ma if she wants it. Mary asked what snacks I like. Since I’m obviously not going to be starting my diet, along with Tom, till Monday, I told her cheese puffs would be fine. Then the mice and rats can have some, too. She said she’s been excited about coming to see the place all week. That’s nice to know, cuz I was worried they’d be so bored. Just because I’m excited about the house, the dolls, etc., doesn’t mean they should be. It all depends on people’s individual tastes. Since Mary and Mom are afraid of mice and rats, I won’t be taking them out while they’re here.

Anyway, I know it’s stupid and a waste of time since diets don’t work for me (especially at this age), but Tom and I both want to lose 20 pounds. He should be around 170-180 pounds but says that if he can get to 200 pounds, he’ll be happy. Ideally, I should be 100 pounds, but I’ll settle for 105 pounds. Even 110 pounds.

Not without nearly starving myself, though. Then, it’s a whole new battle just to keep the damn weight off. Things have changed, that’s for sure. I used to be able to effortlessly lose weight and keep it off effortlessly, too. Not anymore! Anyway, I know I’ll never be under 115 pounds again, but it’s nice to dream.

Ma’s getting an adjustable bed, which means we’ll be getting back the bed we gave her. Actually, she bought the bed for Tom when he was in the Crystal Creek apartments, then took it to the house, then we gave it to her when she moved into Mary’s and we got the air bed. So, this will be one less expense for us. All we’ll need to buy for that room is a nightstand.

I got up at 10:00 today and had I slept five minutes longer, the rumbles would’ve woken me up. As far as I know, I’m finally free to go off-schedule for a while after tomorrow. Finally! After six months. I spent over a decade trying to keep a schedule, just to end up looking forward to hanging up the alarm clock for a while. Who knows how often I’ll be woken up by the rumbles, though? What is this? Is God like - well, if neighbors and stereos driving by aren’t gonna be waking her up, hell, I’ll just shake her whole damn house then and wake her up that way. Desperate. Totally desperate.

Today I worked my ass off for a good eight hours. I vacuumed, dusted, mopped and did laundry, so now that we’re finally caught up on the laundry, which feels so good, and now that the house is clean, I’m gonna relax with a movie and do some reading. I haven’t worked at all on my story this week, but that will change. Next week I’ll really tackle it and make up for lost time.

I bathed tonight and my hair’s clean, so tomorrow all I’ll have to do is tidy up the animals so they don’t stink, and maybe run some dishes off.

My lungs are doing fine, but of course, my preventative inhaler is an accumulative medicine, so it’ll take time to wear out of my system. What’s there to prevent, though? I don’t smoke, so I shouldn’t get any worse than I am now, as I said before. Although I don’t wheeze anymore, I may get over-the-counter inhalers, which Tom asked if I wanted, as long as they don’t cost a fortune. We’ll see. I’m just sick of doctors, prescriptions, and the whole incompetent system. Not only did Cigna give us the wrong address, but Dr. Olssen never called back or had her secretary call back. That tells me something - a typical doctor who doesn’t give a shit. Any doctor who doesn’t call you back shouldn’t be in practice, but sadly, that’s how it is today. If you can get a doctor to return your phone calls, you are very lucky.

Now Tom’s switching insurance again to Aetna. For what? So he can have the same problems with the same kinds of incompetent people? All he’ll get is the run-around, while one person says A and the other says B. Everyone’s so lazy and unwilling to do any work. You call someone and instead of them dealing with you, they refer you to someone else who refers you to someone else, and so on and so forth, and where do you get? After spending hours playing phone and feeling like a football people are tossing down the line and you get false information. As in nowhere.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 2000
Today was a pretty shitty day, thanks to Cigna. They have changed dramatically since we last used them. They’re just as bad as Intergroup now! We went to my appointment but were told that the doctor moved. That was the final straw. Having to fight tooth and nail for these inhalers and having to chase the right to breathe normally is no way to live. I’ve had it with doctors and inhalers and the whole nine yards. I’m fed up with the run-around I’ve been getting. I’ve had enough dealings with doctors and medical problems to last me many lifetimes. I just don’t need it anymore, and like I said, I’ve had it with my time being wasted because people keep fucking up. God just won’t let people quit disrupting and interfering with my life. We drove all the way out there for nothing when I could’ve been doing other things, such as working on my story. Tom says he’s happy just to be with me no matter where we are, and that’s really sweet of him, but I’m sick of this shit. I’m really sick of it. Tom and I made a deal that if they couldn’t work me in by tomorrow, I’d just quit the inhalers and the doctors unless it was a dire emergency. He keeps saying I’ve got a life-threatening disease here and that I’ll die without my inhalers. Not that I’ve made any major contributions to this world or that I’m something society should miss, but I won’t die. As long as I don’t smoke and stay out of the pollution, I should be fine. I’m tight and congested on the inhalers so why would I be that much worse off the inhalers? I seem to be doing a lot of this lately - fighting for inhalers. Especially since we moved. Well, did you ever think, I asked Tom, that maybe God’s trying to tell me something? Maybe he’s trying to tell me I can live without them. At first I was mad at God and was like - what is this?! First I don’t have the right to be a total woman and now I’m gonna lose my right to breathe? Well, if he doesn’t think I deserve to breathe, then neither do I. But then I thought about it and was like, hey, you don’t smoke anymore. There’s no reason why you should go through the 2½-year cycle of hell you went through with the wheezing and trips to the ER. Not that I’d be alive by the time I got to an ER, but still, I should be just fine. God may be unfair and I may not be on his list of favorites, but I trust him. If I truly do need these inhalers to survive (especially since my vibes say I’ll live to be 61 or 63) he’ll make sure I get them.

The having to be disrupted by other people’s incompetence and having to alter plans and work around their stupidity is far from over yet. We still have to deal with a stupid, useless Mexican coming out here tomorrow, supposedly, that we know damn well can’t fix this electrical outlet. So, that’ll interfere with our lives for a while too. Then when we get done fixing what they fucked up within the house, God can see to it that things start breaking much sooner and much more frequently than they should. Playing car will be a regular thing again once we take care of the house’s fuck-ups. There’s always something going on. Gotta always have setbacks.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2000
Tom stopped at Mom’s today. She’s doing OK and Mary got a parakeet. As far as we know, we’re still on for a visit this Saturday. Tom said he got stuck behind a wide load on the road for miles and miles and then he had to deal with the usual city traffic, so it was no fun for him.

When he got home he called Palm Harbor who said they’d call back. We were both sure no one would call us, but some stupid Mexican called asking for directions, saying he’d be here Friday and Saturday, and Tom was like, “No. All we need is one outlet fixed and a globe.”

This shouldn’t take two days to do, and I’m sure we’ll never see our missing globe. I’m sure the stupid Mexican will either forget to bring one or will bring the wrong size. I’m even more sure that the Mexican won’t have brains enough to fix our outlet. It asked us if we just moved in. It turns out that they were supposed to come out in November when the house was delivered and they were the ones that were supposed to do the trim and all that shit.

Thanks, God, for turning our dream into the hassle it has been.

We had our first leak too, just as I predicted, which Tom had to take the time out to fix. The Mexican didn’t tighten the kitchen pipes very well so he had to do it for them along with practically everything else around here. Always gotta do the Mexicans’ work for them. They’re just such cheap, lazy, half-assed little fucks.

Later…

Tomorrow I see my new doctor for my meds. Luckily, I’m not shy or afraid of meeting new doctors. It’s not people that make me nervous, it’s what they do. It’s life itself.

I began walking on the treadmill again. I put a book on the music stand in front of it so I can read when I’m not gazing out the window at the dull, yet splendid view. It sure beats walking in an enclosed room in Phoenix with assholes within arm’s reach! Walking doesn’t change my weight or appearance, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something, other than just the physical activity of housecleaning. It’s gonna be a long wait for that exercise machine if we even get approved to get it on credit.

Yesterday, due to Jade’s being too understuffed, she buckled at the waist as I was trying a teddy bear’s dress on her. I had been trying to keep her standing to make it easier to get the dress on, but she buckled and her hand hit her leg and her ring finger broke right off. I mean right off. It made a clean break at the base of the finger. There were no shards or anything. It broke in one piece. Luckily, it happened this way if it had to happen at all given my shit doll luck, so I could glue it back on easily. Some time, Tom’s gonna perform a little surgery on her and slit her ass so he can stuff her fuller, but make her shape better proportioned, then sew her back up tighter. I’m sure that I was given the wrong body for this doll. Either that or the body was sewn funny, or both. If we had stuffed her body full as it is, it would’ve made her look huge, as well as disproportional. So, he’s gonna take this anorexic doll who’s too flimsy and who won’t stand, and firm her up. That way, if I get sick of her sitting, I can get her a stand and know she won’t slump over in it and maybe smash her face to pieces.

I can’t believe the flower I got at the dentist is still alive. I thought it’d be dead the next day. Maybe it’s alive because of all the sunlight this place gets during the day. It’s right under the skylight, too.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 2000
Those stupid, stupid shits! First we wait forever for Dan to keep his word and get his fucking ass out here, and now we’re waiting for a Palm Harbor rep that never shows up. They never even called. By the time I went to call them to give them a piece of my mind, they were closed, so Tom’s gonna call them from the cell phone while he’s visiting his mom. Are we ever gonna be free of these people and their fuck-ups?! Aaarrrggghhh! Fucking stupid cocks! I’m so sick of incompetent people holding up, disrupting, and interfering with our lives! When we finally fix all their mistakes, then who’s gonna fuck with us? What are we gonna have to spend our time and money fixing after that, huh?

Just how many of these Mexicans in that factory even know how to read? They can’t follow directions if they can’t fucking understand English or even read Spanish. Oh, I forgot. Mexicans don’t believe in schooling. Let’s see…it’s either gangs or welfare, right? And when they’re not on welfare or gang-banging it, what do they do? Go straight from diapers to a job they can’t even handle.

Anyway, since Palm Harbor still refuses to come out here, Tom tried to tackle the problem on his own, but because it’d take so much time, he’s gonna pester them to get their ass out here, or else he’ll hire an electrician, he says, and will send them the bill. I asked Tom what made him think the electrician would know what they were doing, and he said he’d stand there watching every move they made.

At least the washer works and at least we’re in the house, but when are we ever gonna be free of these people?! I’ve had it with people! We need to move on and live our lives. I’m sick of being held back by people. I want these people out of our lives. They’ve fucked it up enough. We’ve had to delay so many things in life cuz of these people. Or improvise in some way. I’m tired of being controlled by these people and having my life be forced to revolve around them. Steven, Dan, Dennis, Palm Harbor, blacks, Mexicans, pigs - I’M SICK OF THEM!!!!!

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Last updated July 03, 2024