I finished cleaning house, even my bedroom, which hadn't been cleaned in over two months. My once small spiders were allowed to grow undisturbed to tarantula size. I eventually had to clean my own personal pig sty anyway.
I usually wear my tattered, threadbare, patched bathrobe or old painting clothes with a bandana holding my hair out of my eyes, but I got dressed up today and even put on makeup. Then I got the mail and Love's death benefit insurance check also came in the mail. I wanted to cry, but didn't dare, because I had makeup on. I was in a blue mood all evening. The cookout went okay, but the coals weren't very hot; I finished cooking the steaks on the grill of my stove.
Steve and his girlfriend always seem to be arguing over something and she seems to start it. Steve told me that he never argues with any woman, because he knows he can't win.
Rob gave me a book to read about a prison riot. Since he was a prison guard at one time, the conditions of both inmates and guards are important to him. I can't imagine having to go into pods (large multiple prisoner cells) with fifty hostile inmates without any weapons, and I can't imagine having to go in there with a weapon either.
