In the cross-hairs..
(begun Tuesday 25th March at 4.40am)
The truth of the matter? I'm an empathetic freak, and I can put myself in your shoes with ease. I can stand back and see myself as you see me, and I'm well aware that it ain't pretty, and when I say that I know el Monstro better than you do, as much as it may offend you, it's gospel...

I was shown some rare kindness yesterday afternoon, and between 4pm and bedtime at 9.25pm, I'd not been treated to so much as a flicker of earache, BackFire, or the debilitating pinch to my lower back. The waves of heat that hit me in my TV chair simply didn't materialise, and there'd been no hint of the nausea that's been on the increase of late.. Some sort of reward? For what? Paranoia is an ugly thing, and since our capture and takeover back in 2005, it's often had me seeing shadows where none exist.

When it comes to my Owner next door however, hoping that he'd have a change of heart was never going to work.. He is what he is, and there's simply no denying it. The astonishing, though probably brief change in stategy, has unnerved me more than I can say. To be shown mercy of any sorts at this late stage of the 'game', has the old antenna up and quivering, as you may imagine, and it would appear that not everyone is fully committed to this latest slight change in plan. How can I tell?

When I'd finally laid my head on my pillow at 9.25pm last night, my hearing had immediately begun giving off huge pulsing waves, and with it, I could feel someone poking away at my calves/shins... I'd muttered out loud on both scores, and had reared up to log it. When my head hit the pillow for the second time, both of those nasty sensations had disappeared completely. Ooops?

She wanted to pop in and visit us this morning? I'd replied to her text immediately, and had said it wasn't a good idea, and that both of us were unwell due to the ARV's, which she'd gracefully accepted. A half-truth to be sure, but texting has it's limitations, does it not?
Did she wish to deliver some sort of message in person, despite that she of all people is more than aware of the intensive monitoring in our home? Did she remember how often I'd tried to warn her that her dear mama was reacting so badly to the technology flooding the area, and she'd bravely decided to come tell me that our days were numbered unless we relocated?
Whatever her reasons, relocation isn't an option, due to financial constraints, and we're just going to have to see this nastiness through to the bitter end.

I'm that naive that to this day I can still fantasise that we're all one big happy family, and that when I lumber into view, everyone is pleased to see me - when of course that's so far from the truth it's ridiculous..
I figure it's my inherent gullible cheerfulness that's kept me going this long (you prefer stupidity?), but even that has crumbled under the sheer weight of the most recent terror tactics engineered in our area. Despite that I had no problem rising above it, knowing as I do, how simple it is to set up a target and then douse the monitoring technology, to sit back and innocently insist there were no Monitors on duty at the time, I hadn't factored in the GameWrecker's reaction to our intruder's visit on 26th March.

I'd wanted to go up with him when he'd left for the shops yesterday around 4pm, but he'd told me to stay put.. He'd called me shortly after he'd left, to say that as he was getting into the Polo, out on the street, a chap had suddenly appeared down by the stopstreet, and had begun heading swiftly up towards him, shouting and waving his arms. My old man had simply gotten into the car and driven off..
Having potential attackers appear out of nowhere when we're at our most vulnerable on the verge, is a trick my Controllers have resorted to on many occasions, and one that I've shared with you often enough on these pages.

Can you begin to imagine the adrenalin rush that hit my already grey-faced and stressed husband in those few minutes? My logical and generally kind better-half, who's been reduced to a jumpy, irritable shadow of his former self, within the space of a few short weeks? Everyone's in the same boat, so get over it? I'd venture to say not quite.. I'd venture to say that the GameWrecker, whose staunch denial of the surveillance technology's existence over the years, has made him a valuable asset to our Entertainment Manager, has now also been deemed to have outlived his usefulness, and that his visible stress has been seized upon with delight.

It matters not whether the small kindnesses shown me yesterday were genuine or not, as you cannot stop the inevitable, and sadly you'll wear the fruits of your combined labours forever, whether you regard yourselves as Good, or not..

LATER at 6.40am
Once again I was shown unusual mercy at bathtime, and there'd not been so much as a flicker of pain or discomfort as I'd submerged the Abomination beneath the tepid water.. Oh ja, they were there all right, and that gentle funnel of wind had whizzed along the wall next to me, but the shocking knives to my cancer had been witheld for reasons unknown...
I'd stripped down completely and had been about to step into the bath when our now traumatised dogs had burst out under the security gate and rushed onto the front lawn shrieking mindlessly. A cat? A hadeda? A well-timed passer-by? My better-halve's first jolt of adrenalin for the day? Whatever.

The tiny handful of die-hard readers who for one reason or another have stuck with me here over the years, will know how partial I am to coincidence.. You're ready for the latest in what I often regard as serendipitous occurrences, or dare I say miracles?
I'd come in for a tongue-lashing yesterday morning. Often well-deserved, as I am a klutz of note.
I'd finished my sweeping and cutting labours, and had been tidying away my tools when I'd found the shiny square of innards along with a single battery lying in the bottom of my gardening bucket. I'd carried them through to the old man and said I must have swept them up unseen, along with the leaves on the driveway.. At a glance, he'd said they'd probably come from one of his old remotes..

It had been a while later that he'd come through and had picked up my panic button where I'd left it on the hatch, before he'd lost the plot completely.. I'd had the thing tucked into my top as usual, while I was working, and I'd had no idea that it was broken..
He'd sat there piecing it together, before relenting a tad and saying that one of the screws had been so loose it was an accident waiting to happen.
Sadly, the tiny square button itself was nowhere to be found, and he'd had to call the disinterested techs at Blue and tell them we needed a replacement..

It was nearer 6am this morning when I'd gone out to fill the birdfeeder, and something had jammed the corn in the funnel that I use. I'd shaken it out, and there it was. The missing button from the shoddily-made remote. You don't find that to be a minor miracle? Well I do. He'll put it all back together later on and test it, before calling the techs to cancel their visit.
Fingers crossed it'll work as it should..

See, I don't care if it's a deliberate change in strategy, before a renewed onslaught on ours... I truly appreciate that I'm sitting here at the desk with only the very mildest of BackFire simmering away, despite that my ears are screaming. Again - I harbour no ill-will towards any of you, for: It is written.
Peace.

---oOo---

Tuesday 25th March 2014 at 8.35am.