Written yesterday:
My God, that damn cock across the street is really making up for the lack of motorcycle rides. I’m not sure which is worse—the one that’s a threat to my sleep or the one that goes on and on for hours. And this is with wind, rain, and a little bit of thunder, too. Luckily, it’s not nearly as loud as when the bastard across the street from our last house would saw so much because we don’t have a big room with huge windows like we had there that let sound in easily. Unless he’s hammering, I don’t hear much with the air cleaners going but I can’t sit at my front desk and watch stuff on my computer while I eat when he’s working because then it is annoying.
What happened to the projects that used to take days? Now it’s adding up to weeks. I still don’t understand how he can have so much work to do in such a tiny room. From the looks of it, I can only guess he did bust out the slider and is framing it. It still doesn’t seem like it should take this long and that much wood. He’s been cutting skinny white pieces of wood like crazy. It’s not nearly wide enough for shelves, and I don’t see where he would have much room for shelves in there, so I can only guess it’s trim. He would have the entry door, slider area, and the windows, too. So yeah, that would take a while to trim.
But still, enough is enough already! I’m getting sick of his shit. He’s just way too in my face. It’s true that most days he’s not home and I don’t know he exists. But when he is home, I definitely know he exists—unless it’s at night. I can’t wait for him to head back to Canada!
I can just imagine all the people he’s bad-mouthed me to, too, LOL. But you know what? I don’t give a shit.
Written today:
At 7:30, I got up and saw the honker moving about in the lanai, and I thought, oh no, here we go again for hours with the saw and the hammering, but he never did. It looked like he might have been painting this time around. Tom said it looked like he was putting down baseboards yesterday based on the size of the pieces he was cutting and carrying indoors. When I asked how he could have so many pieces for such a tiny room, Tom had a good point when he said he might be doing the living room as well, especially if he opened it up to be one big room. I’d love to see what it looks like in there. Even more, I’d love to see him get the fuck out.
Really, the bastard is invading my dreams now too, LOL. It was kind of funny. But first, after we got back from getting a few things from Publix, I stepped out to dump something in the trash that was already on the street waiting to be picked up. I looked over there on my way since it was right in front of my face, dumped the trash, walked back up the driveway, and into the house. As soon as I shut the door, I heard his truck start up, and him pull out. Was he sitting there the whole time? I never saw him or heard the truck door.
Hopefully, he’s almost finished with this project and will shut up for a while. Why can’t he be like everyone else around here? 95% of what I hear from the people here comes from him.
I could hear him throwing shit in his own trash bin yesterday when he was cleaning up from his day of being annoying—even in the bathroom. He was throwing things in his usual aggressive, pissed-off kind of manner.
Unless provoked, I choose to ignore him because I don’t like him, and I wouldn’t want him to trash our mail if he accidentally got something of ours, for example. I also want to hang on to any ammunition I may have if need be. We do have a rule about dogs having to be on leashes here for one. So yeah, there are things I could do right now, but I’m not the spiteful type I used to be—at least not unless I’m forced to be.
I checked to see if he could do anything via his connections up in Canada should I decide to give him a piece of my mind if we move and he reacts poorly. As I suspected, the worst he could do would be to file a false complaint and spread misinformation, but that could backfire on him because the American authorities still require actual evidence.
So, in last night’s dream, we lived next to the honker instead of across the street. It was sometime in the evening when I decided to sneak into his place through an unlocked door. I could hear the shower running and knew he was in the shower. I stepped into his well-lit kitchen. It looked weird with three big tubs—one for laundry, one for a sink, and one for dishes.
I decided to throw some of our laundry that I had with me into one of his washers. After I started it, I crept back out to our place. Then I started to panic, wondering how I was going to get back into the house unseen to dry it.
So yeah, pretty weird dream.
We wanted to get a small cherry tomato plant, but they were out of stock, so we got seeds for small tomatoes but not cherry tomatoes. I forget what they’re called, but anyway, we have to get the proper soil before we can plant them. We’re going to keep them indoors.
I asked Tom if he noticed the smoothies giving me a little extra energy, and he said he did but didn’t want to say anything and jinx it. We probably already did, LOL, but I do have amazing energy today—at least so far. Especially after waking up a little stuffy and having to take Claritin. Time to dust in here again just to be safe.
We’re comfortable but not getting ahead. We can pay the bills, we have food to eat, and we don’t have to wait to pay for something when we get the next check, but we’re not getting ahead either. This frustrates me because I feel like we’re stuck in a rut. It sure beats health issues, though.
Eileen asked on her wall if people were in a position in their lives where they were okay to go, and surprisingly, many feel the way I do. They’re okay with going whenever their time is up or at least on some days. Well, I definitely wasn’t okay with it when I thought we were going to have no choice but to go when we first moved to California in 2007. I wasn’t even 40 yet and still had things I wanted to do and experience.
Now, though, the better I feel, the less in a hurry I am to get to the finish line, but I’m still a lot more okay with it as opposed to 20 years ago. This is because I’m older and believe I have experienced just about all I’m going to experience in life. Like it or not, the less money you have, the less you can do.
“Vi” never wrote any more entries just as I figured would be the case. Sometimes I wonder what it’s all about, though. Role-playing? DID?
It’s so weird how only half of my thumbnail got better. The fungus on the right side is growing out nicely, but I still have discoloration on the entire left side from tip to cuticle. The cuticle is also kind of whitish in color and numb like it’s dead. So, I trimmed as much as I could and decided to give the lacquer another try before I resume vinegar treatments. I just do not want to have to take that medication! It’s here if I ultimately need it, though.
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