Among Isat’s hoarder tendencies is that she doesn’t want me to throw away those those plastic milk jugs. Ones that I suspect are tainted with BPA. Strangely she only has about 6 of them as far as I can see. Perhaps someone in her family is throwing them away? She said today, “We save these”, and earlier on the 4th day I moved in, maybe longer after that, she’d also said not to throw them away. And not long after I’d moved in, Yenti had said that “we” (the Mormons) didn’t believe in the last days or in survivalism, yet not long after that, Isat said she’d bought MRE’s in case of a disaster, and that earthquakes had happened before in Nevada. She suggested that she was going to get a barrel to fill with water when I suggested getting emergency water since you could live without food longer than water, and sterilizing it with chlorine pills, but she said there was some other way which I thought those pills were, but then I realized it wasn’t chlorine but neither of us could remember what the chemical was. She also said I should fill those milk/juice bottles with water in case of an emergency. When I suggested she get spears, she asked if it would be better to get a gun. I also suggested as I did earlier when she expressed distress over her electricity bill ($500 a month) that she get a solar set up, but she said instead she’d get a little one.
On the 24th, Sunday, she turned the heat on, and it was unbearable. She and Yenti were gone so I wasn’t able to rest in my room because I thought the control was in her room and I didn’t want to violate her privacy. When she came back many hours later, I asked about it and said I was very hot because of it, and her reply was (and remember this is many hours later), “Buttercup is cold.” When I asked if there was a way to stop it in my room, she said, “No” and then went to it and lowered it to 73 degrees Farenheit, but still wouldn’t turn it off or set it to automatic. So I had to wait for her to leave. Tis is a woman who when first taking me in to live with her said, “You’ll be treated like one of the family.”
It’s now 6:01 PM and the sun is still somewhat bright. I think about five days ago, one time she knocked on my door at 8 AM, and without a word left, and when I immediately opened it, found a vacuum right next to it. Talk about “rude” and “arrogant”. That’s almost like her standing in front of me out of the blue and pointing to a vacuum while starring at me. And what would that mean, am I supposed to be psychic Miss “I don’t like to talk” Isat? And wow, is that supposed to be the model example of a loving person and Mormon, an anti-social person? What if, in the morning, I’m going to the bathroom and Isat knocks, am I to shout from the bathroom while taking a shower or brushing my teeth? And if I don’t answer will she take that as a sign of rudeness or disobedience or not behaving like a family member?
About forty-five minutes ago I thought about going to their church and to suggest that he slyly somehow get Isat to give me a regular schedule rather than being subject to her narcissistic mood swings and assumptions about me “not finishing” or not having done anything and arbitrarily telling me when to rest and work. But the thing is, there are a much higher amount of narcissists in narcissist spawned cults, so I have a higher risk of encountering a narcissist pastor who may side with Isat and who may tell her to bring me to church and wait for me to quickly convert or get rid of me for risking making their “Church” look bad by me spreading word about her being a bad person and therefor bad member. Even if I merely say that Isat is getting senile, if the narcissist pastor in one of his mood swings thinks, that because I’m not Mormon, that that’s “criticizing” their Church, which is a “no-no” in Mormonism, or might illogically think that I’m risking their income by upsetting a tithe-payer to their church, then I may end up back out in the desert. And just by mentoning Isat and Yenti and their son in their house by name, I risk some malicious narcissist Mormon using their geneological database to look them up to find out who I am and get me kicked out for daring to criticize his precious leader Joseph Smith. And how many Mormons who read this fully (and how many will read it carefully in the biased lifestyle they were raised in to walk away in anger from anyone who “has already made up their mind about the Church” as if making up your mind is bad in and of itself, and merely because they “made it up” to be opposed to the bad things they learned about it, as if you must approve merely because of some shallow “good things” Mormons claim to do, or many even and ignore any bad, no matter how severely bad that fruit is. As if you should only focus on that one percent of the fruit that isn’t rotten and ignore the rest of the mushy slime it’s leaving all over your hand just by holding it, or the foul stench you smell from smelling it.
It’s now 8:32 PM. Isat and Yenti left with some family members of theirs. They’ve been gone for about one and half hours now. I’ve done a lot of cleaning, including of some of my property that I salvaged from the dumpster. Some of them smelled very bad. I’m getting read to get on the Internet to ask DJ to help me get a desk tonight or tomorrow that I hid in the desert and while I look through some bags of my stuff that I left there. I had told Isat not long before she left, that I would put salmon out to defrost, and that I would find it back in the refrigerator. And she told me it was her doing that, and that she was doing that in case we forgot it was out and it spoiled and to keep the dogs from eat it spoiled and that it boiled quickly so it wasn’t a big deal. However that was a ridiculous and rude thing to say, because I didn’t say I did that for the dogs, but it was meant for me, and my way of saving her power. And her stove had poor efficiency and she knew that. Strangely, she wouldnt use her microwave as I sometimes did to feed myself. I had even told her that I ate the salmon raw, so for her to put it back in was yet another callous act that showed she had narcissism disorder. It was also rude in that again, she was showing more concern for the dogs that me or the rest of her family. For example, her son Tai will almost entirely eat Cup of Noodle soup because, as I predicted he’d say when I asked, “It takes too long, and that’s all they’ve got.” Maybe it wouldn’t take so long if his mom wouldn’t sabatoge his or the rest of her family’s efforts to get things done quickly, and in a rational way. It was also ridiculous because salmon doesn’t spoil that fast. What’s also ridiculous is that she told me many days ago, with a smile, that she always burns things when I told her I wasn’t always good with not burning food. So, if it’s the case she’s always burning things (and I found evidence of that when I found burned hot dogs not long after moving in) due to her poor memory, then why not try mine? And why worry when her and the rest of her family and I am often in the kitchen, and as I said earlier, told me to constantly watch it. Such is the mind of a narcissist.
Consider this too, concerning Isat’s rude comment that I shouldn’t complain: when I was talking with DJ in the garage on the 24th, I asked if he wanted to go inside to eat, or for some other reason, and he said, “I don’t want to go inside because of the smell.” Consider that I’d cut, in my opinion, more than half that smell away, and he’d only briefly come in; if all my work and hard cleaning and bleaching for days didn’t get rid of the extremeness of that bad smell from her dog, how then can Isat say I shouldn’t complain about the conditions of my stay? I can’t even get a guest of mine in for more than few seconds without them curling their nose and leaving in disgust? That’s reasonable and not something to complain about on top of her bad treatment, her rude and irrational behavior towards me, the stuffed, dirty, smelly room she gave me, and her persistant delaying or refusal to get genuine deodorizers and air purifiers or to put any she has to work, and her turning on the heat on despite it making me miserable so that her heavily diseased dog won’t shiver, and when she has plenty to cover it up with and the money buy a room heater for it?! And it is in that room most of the time, sitting depressed and in pain, and moves it’s head away and holds it up when I try to pet it, and me not even touching it. And consider this: When I first told Isat I had psoriasis and that it got worse with stress, her reply was, “You need to relax.” So, I need to relax by cleaning nonstop and resting, sleeping, waking and going to the bathroom at her whims? That’s her idea of relaxing and a good life? No wonder her daughter wasn’t able to keep her room clean and their parents won’t ask their son to work for them. My guess is that he’s paying them to leave him alone so that he can live life like a normal person. And how’s this for relaxation, the Sunday before the last one, Yenti, when I asked if he wanted anything done, he replied, “Sunday is a day of rest.” But when I told him about a immature argument/little fit one of my supervisors, “D.B.” at “The Golf Park in Vienna” where I used to work over me saying I didn’t think it was right to work on Sundays, Yenti then changed his story to, “Sometimes you have to.” And last Sunday, when Isat went off to do her bood work job, and she turned around in her parking lot, and her last words were, “Daniel, try ot throw out some trash.” And that I did as I showed with some pictures and videos that day when I cleaned her office and majorly renovated and beautified it that day and the next. But did she show appreciate for it, as I said earlier, “No.” And instead she even said, repeatedly, to clean the beautiful futon I put in it, while ignoring that the couch by it she regularly sleeps on apparently, is horribly filthy and no doubt saturated with the stench of her diseaesd dog and her step daughter’s German Shephard, Brutus.
It’s now 8:51 PM, and I’m sitting painfully on some large rocks by a building to access the Internet, typing on a laptop with half it’s screen being impossible to use.
(I went home at about 9:45 PM, after finally, after days of not having done so, opening up some tabs – in my browser – to check the world news.)
It’s now 11:44 PM, and I had done more work, cleaning off my own things and Isats. And my psoriasis has flared up greatly and I am itching like crazy from how she treated me today and remembering all of this Hell she’s put me through and no thanks to Yenti, who like the youth pastor of GV Christian church, did not warn me that Isat was mentally ill. And he is an ex-police officer, so he knows that warning people about criminally minded people is the moral thing to do. How long do you think I’ll be able to stay under Isat’s crippled, decayed, horribly smelly, failing wing? It’s 6:19 PM, and a few minutes ago I heard a hard knock on my door, should I assume it’s Isat wanting me to do work or check to see if it’s one of the dogs trying to get in as they sometimes try to do? What kind of life am I going to have living here with this new madness?
It’s now 11:47 PM, and I really want to post this story on my blog now, before tomorrow comes.
It’s now 1:43 AM, the 27th. Instead of going out to post this to my blog earlier, I instead to remove the horrible bed that used to belong to Isat’s daughter, which wiped me out. I put it in her choir room not knowing if she’d allow me to throw it out or not without her exploding in anger and because I didn’t know if the trash disposal company would throw it out or not being that it was a queen sized mattress. I’m exhausted, and my scalp is still severely itching.
It’s now 3:15 AM, and I finally got back on the Internet a few minutes ago, and a few minutes before that I found Isat had been boiling a slice of salmon for a little longer than it should have been. She was apparently on the Internet again, and still keeping me from using the wifi and despite seeing my laptop on a kitchen table when she came in a few minutes after me turning off the stove and chopping up the salmon for her dogs, (yes, she feeds them in the middle of the morning, and and a result they make am abnormally huge amount of poop in their backyard more quickly than is normal for dogs that eat a proper amount), not asking one word about whether or not I was able to get on the Internet successfully since days ago despite me saying I couldn’t back then. And she said, “I thought you were asleep,” and I replied, “I couldn’t sleep because I was in too much pain.” As always, she asked, “What?”. She always, and I mean that literally, asks, “What” after I speak. Apparently she’s hard of hearing and for no reason I can figure out other than her being a stingy or prideful person, won’t use a hearing aid). But so I repeated and added, “because of all the moving.” She of course gave no compassionate response, let alone any response. She did offer me the salmon meant for the dogs though, but being that she’s a narcissist and knowing she valued her personal dog more, I dared not eat from it.
It’s now 3:26 AM. And to any of you fault finding Mormons who want to accuse me, in your hypocrisy, of being a fault-finder, arguing that in my retelling of the past days of my life, especially over Isat, and second her husband and third her son Tai: try living my life and in the situation I’ve described, then you can judge, and on top of that, as I pointed out: stop being fault-finders yourselves by calling me one, without evidence and when I’m pointing out worthy criticisms to note. Stop trying to sugar coat and blind everyone from reality so that you can keep up your lying without having to feel even a tinge of guilt or worry that you’ll be found out as false teachers and blind followers. And, this is literally in my estimation, about 85% of the things Isat has said to me, the rest being worthless talk. And she herself said to me in anger, “I don’t like to talk much”, so then, I’m truly pointing out the little she has said to me each day, from before the 20th of March up to now, the 27th. If anyone is a fault-finder, it’s a narcissist and Isat. Furthermore, to cover up the acts of a cruel animal abuser would indicate that you who want to make, “You’re being a fault-finder” hit and run jabs are narcissists yourselves or heavily deluded by your Mormon brainwashing. To long abuse an animal is a clear sign of an unkind, unloving and evil person: “Whoever is righteous has regard for the life of his beast, but the mercy of the wicked is cruel.” – Proverbs
It’s 4:35 AM and I managed to post what was before this sentence. I’m stressing over my stolen bike pumps and none being around to pump up my bicycle tire or my wagon wheel and having to drag that thing all the way back to my apartment, weight it down and somehow disassemble my desk and then drag that weight back to Isat’s house. I’m exhausted and haven’t slept.
It’s 5:24 AM, and I just went to the kitchen and to my true amazement I found Isat awake and feeding salmon mixed with dog food to her and her step daughter’s dog AGAIN. So she’s feeding them nearly hourly, in the early morning! UGH. Why not use that energy to do actual useful WORK? Because: she’s a narcissist, and narcissists hate what they perceive as lowly peoples’ work. Now to try to get out of this house again and try and retrieve the rest of my trashed property.
It’s 9:11 AM, WOW: About 15 minutes ago I got back from hauling another load of my property, well smellified from the dumpster. I carted it up 3 miles, exhausted from the start, and when I finally got back home Brutus the German Shepherd began licking me to death, something he’d never done before, and Isat right away came into the backyard where I’d collapsed on my butt in exhaustion. AND ONCE AGAIN SHE REPEATED SHE DIDN’T WANT MY STUFF SHOWING ON THE SIDE, REPEATEDLY TELLING ME ABOUT THE “TRASH” ON THE SIDE AND ME AGAIN AND AGAIN TELLING HER IT WASN’T TRASH. GOD, DAMN, ugh, relentless idiot. Then she gave me a bag of quarters, saying it was $20, and asked, “Is this enough for the bins?” (I told her there were $2 bins at Lowe’s). And I asked if it was okay if I took a break after some more stupid small talk with her about where I’d just been and what I’d just done. And she indicated it would be okay if I took a break, and I got up and she asked if I was going to use my bed (I’d put the disgusting felt one that her daughter used in the choir room lest she freak out about me throwing it out and the trash disposal guys leave it out and she freak out over that too). I thought she meant as in my bed I used to replace it, which if she did mean was a dumb, dumb question since OF COURSE IF I MOVED THE OTHER ONE OUT! And it was stupid either way she meant it, as in the one I brought or that she let me use, because why would I if I intended to use it?! And I tell her why I didn’t trash it and that I could clean it and she tells me she’d like me to put it in her room (and remember she has two, being that she claimed Buttercup’s was hers in her odd lie). So I asked, “Which room? You have two.” And she said, “The master.”
After that I asked her if where a nearby grocery store is because her daughter left lots of pennies (but also so I could have a convnient place to get food of my own liking rather than having to beg her unreliable do-what-I-feel-like self), and asked if I could put it in a penny machine, and she says twice emphatically, “Oh no, they charge a lot.” Okay stingy hoarder, okay. So then she looks down at this brown rug she left out, a piece of… and asks me to clean it and that it’s for her bathroom. So, not having taken my break, I say, “Okay, I’ll clean it right away,” and did so and put it in her bathroom. When I come back I see Yenti, in the same clothes from yesterday, and chat with him and he somehow noticed the rear tire on my bike was messed up even though I couldn’t tell from the same distance and told him about how it popped while I was moving stuff yesterday. And while doing that, I’m wiping the kitchen counters and clean a dish, again, so Isat would shut up and not treat me like shit again, implying I was slacking off. Then she expressed very slight disaproval over me using a certain darkish rag, not white and clean, to wipe the kitchen counters (and cabinets down, which she didn’t watch me do) and makes some sort of disapproving sound, and then turns to open a drawer of white cloths, then closes it, and turns to these two ugly rags like she did yesterday sitting on the counter by their ugly microwave, and for the second time asks if are mine and for the second time I say “no” to, and she says, “You can use these,” and I tell her I didn’t do that because for wiping things down because I felt that since they were so dirty I was only putting filthy back on what I just wiped. Then, she, confirming what I suspected from day one when I suggested using bleach on Buttecup, and I told herher remembering I’d used bleach to clean various things about a week ago I think, said, “You can use bleach (to clean the dirty cloths). Then I told her she ran out, but that I has my own (bleach). Then she said, “Yes,” and something I can’t remember, and then said something that was almost exactly this, “When you use bleach, remember that there’s such a thing as using something too much (and I knew what she’d say next because she was a stupid person), because the germs will get resistant, and then it will be of no use anymore, so use as little as possible, okay?” UGH, NO: GERMS DO NOT BECOME RESISTANT TO BLEACH, ANYMORE THAN THEY BECOME RESISTANT TO TOO MUCH SUNLIGHT OR TOO MUCH WATER: SOME THINGS THEY CANNOT GAIN RESISTANCE TOO, JUST LIKE WHEN YOU LET YOUR DOG GET TOO SICK AND TOO DISEASED, SO THAT IT’S SKIN IS PINK, RAW, SAGGING WORSE THAN AN ELEPHANT, ENCRUSTED WITH YELLOW FLAKING SKIN AND COVERED IN BLISTERS: IT WILL NOT GET USED TO THAT AND FEEL BETTER! Ironically, and hypocritically, on top of everything else, either the day before or this morning, probably the day before, I was going to feed the dogs some salmon mixed in with their food, and trying to save time and because it was faster, I asked if I could just mix it in with my hands as she stood near me, and she said, “If your hands are clean” (yeah I’m going to try to food poison your dogs so you can throw a tantrum again and have a nervous break down and try to stab me under the pretense of having killed the dogs and your continually tormented punching bag, Buttercup), and the irony was that the bowls were filthy, and as far as I could tell, before having finally washed them today, saw they were slime filled with various things in them indicating they hadn’t been washed for a long time. It’s incredible too that, her, knowing I was doing research on the Net to save Buttercup from anymore misery and having told her Brutus was starting to show signs of skin infection cut me off from it. To me that was a sign that she truly was trying to cause these animals continual suffering. And, if she does have Baron Munchausen by proxy (I’ll call it BMSBP) as I suspected after short while of living there, then that combined with her narcissism disorder puts the pets and everyone’s lives at risk of this woman. And she is doing harm by having everyone live under this dust and seemingly black mold infested house. I offered to write letters to the owners for her, and send them pictures to show that they need to clean out the dust, and she said she would like that to be done, and yet she’s freaking out instead over me not continually monitoring the kitchen and not immediately not making all my property nice and neat after an epic nightmare struggle getting it here. She’s wearing me down and stressing me out so much so that I can’t do what’s best to get done first. And her continually trying to keep me working obsessively on trivial things first with no schedule may actually be her way of trying to thoroughly make me feel like she’s not doing anything wrong, but rather I am, so that she feels safe that I’d never report her for hoarding or animal neglect and abuse.
If you don’t know what BMSBP is, it’s a kind of supposed mental disorder, supposedly, in which a person harms of tries to give the appearance of harm to some living thing under their care other than themselves in order to gain attention for it. All the literature I’ve read and shows I’ve watched about it have always indicated the harm is done to a human, however in this case it appears to me to be a dog
Then she tells me, ugh, for the second time to not let it stay on the floor, then mentions that I left a bucket out, and that the dogs might drink it because they wouldn’t know any better. Which reminds me: when I had come back that morning, she also asked me to train the dogs to poop only in a certain far off corner by watering the whole area where they pee and poop (meaning watering a huge area of gravel and wasting a massive amount of water just to get them to go to the corner. The problem with that is the German’s Shepherd’s obsession with water him getting out all the time to bite at it. And one time accidentally but my finger in his obsession and caused me to bleed. And Isat again mentioned that the electricity bill was very high and that therefore when I was my clothes to use cold water (oh yeah did I mention their washer is shit and they have no dryer? Can I complain yet?!), so I again recommended a solar power kit and she suggests using a do it yourself kit and that a book she has on it says it’s easy. What she meant most likely was ASSEMBLING THE SOLAR CELLS YOURSELF. THEN DO IT YOURSELF Isat, DON’T REALLY ON ME FOR THAT WHOSE ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR CLEANING HELPER. Then I mention how the shower takes forever to heat up, and she acknowledged that very slightly, and I told her how I only took a 3 minute shower because I forgot my soap, and she replied, as I thought she would, “Isn’t there soap in there?” and I tell her the obvious: I didn’t want to risk offending Vai, and she replies, “What’s wrong? It’s all in the family” in a “what’s the big deal?” tone. Then I went to pour water in the dog bowl from one of the milk jugs I’d filled with water, and one of them yesterday I’d repeatedly washed out because she apparently put soap in it. But so I poured one and it foamed a little, so I asked, “Did someone put soap in this?” and Yenti made some sort of sound, and Isat made some reply I can’t remember, but then she said, “Remember, those are my two children,” UH YEAH Isat THAT’S WHY I ASKED IF SOMEONE PUT SOAP IN THE WATER, GOD, DAMN, STUPID, UNGRATEFUL. UGH. At that point I left, because I couldn’t take her insane hateful inconsiderate speech anymore. It’s now 9:41 AM. I’ll try to post this new part soon.
It’s now 3:13 PM, I had to sleep. I tried to sleep, but 4 minutes ago Isat kept knocking on my door and despite me saying “Hello” in tired misery, having barely if at all slept, while in pain, she comes in, and comes up with what I knew was a fake excuse to do so: she goes into her daughters closet (and she implied many days ago that all the clothes in her was her daughters) and says, “I’ve got to get my clothes” and begins making frantic hurried sounds and “uh” sounds like she’s working hard to get them out fast. Then I said, “I can’t sleep, I keep having this dream and then waking up, it’s about working, not cleaning but moving,”, I made up the dream part kind of, I was rather dreaming with my body so to speak, as in feeling the pain of all that work and listening to the sound of traffic which was keeping me awake, but I was lying, just to let her know I was miserable and not being lazy. Narcissists are paranoid and suspicious and easily upset if you don’t do what they want. Remember: they are very callous to the feelings of others. So then I told her I couldn’t sleep because of the sound of traffic, and that was because I had the only window that opens, opened, for fresh air and to keep the heat from building up and so that somehow any bad dust might escape. Then I say to her, “I can put that in a box if you want” and can’t hardly open my eyes because I had them closed for hours and was dehydrated a lttle. I had even asked what she wanted to do with all the stuff in this room (and much of it was junk) followed by, “Do you want me to put it in boxes?” and she said, “Yes.” And this was about a week ago. So then Isat, while making those struggling sounds to remove the clothes, says, “It’s like a nightmare (referring to my dream comment)” and then said, “Uh (as in a sound of struggle removing the clothing), so much junk.” Then she suddenly leaves. So out of the blue she needs junk clothing? And when she left I, after about four minutes of trying to work myself to get up, I look at the closet, and it appears nothing had been removed. It’s 3:23 now and I just turned around and looked again: it does seem a little like she removed something now that I look harder with my eyes refreshed a little. I’m truly sore and in pain and feeling like I’m on the verge of a headache. But how is that for privacy? So, what if I was naked? I had no bed sheet, one pair of dirty clothes, no spare shirt, just one, with an uncomfortable red one in the garage as far as I can remember, and I suppose a hamper full of some used clothing somewhere among my piles of things, but I haven’t seen it if I ever did retrieve it. Can I live like this, can I live in such a place where Isat violates my privacy? What kind of Mormon is this? What happened to the universal rules of not violating a stranger’s privacy and on top of that: that of the opposite sex? And on top of that: isn’t it common sense not to pester someone whose going to be working for you to keep you from being miserable and in pain, and after they’ve just massively exhausted themselves in some epic or near epic struggle against evil people? I’m in a world full of zombies it seems. It’s now 3:31, and I don’t want to live here anymore. I’m looking forward to meeting a very lively and friendly business man I met about a week and a half ago maybe. He offered to help me look for gold, opals and geodes as I’d planned on doing now for about two or three months. I hope what I find will get me out of this zombie nightmare. It’s now 3:35. I’m sitting with one leg folded on folding chair that I padded, and looking at my bed, thought of getting one of those things that allows you to have a veil going around your bed. That way if Isat does such a thing again, she won’t, Lord willing, see that I’m naked.