Today two things of interest happened. I'll try not to write about everything. I don't want you to be bored. I'm very ordinary and I don't do anything special. So I will only try to keep track of the *interesting* things.

The nosy old bag next door got a cat. She is constantly putting it out or bringing it in, and it gives her an excuse to move. Sometimes, when she sits there with her binoculars long enough, I think she's already dead. But she comes to the door and if I'm outside, she *talks* to me. I don't think I can bear it. She wants to know everything. She hints more about the patter of little feet than my mother ever will. If I wanted the patter of little feet, I'd have gotten a cat myself years ago. Right now though, I'm thinking of a dog. A big dog. One that will keep that cat too scared to come outside. I'm not sure if planting a vegetable garden was a good idea this year. It means I have to go outside. It means she will be watching me. And now, she will be talking to me. I look at her mouth, watching her talk, and all I can think about is duct tape. Frank won't allow dogs though. He wouldn't like a cat either. But opening that door gives her an excuse to tell him everything I've been doing. And she will. She always does. Nosy bint.

Between you and me and the bedpost, I'm not sure what bint means. But I like the way it sounds when I say it. Bint.

Angie gave me a new tape. It's by Tony Horton, and the music is simply lovely. Nothing but love songs that haunt you. I played it twice today- even once after Frank got home. He didn't notice, but that's because I played it in the kitchen softer than his television. The picture on the album reminds me a little of Frank before we got married. He's very handsome. I wish Frank could have sung like that for me.
  ¶ 6:38 AM