Faux Cause Finger Tip Jabbing

1635h
A day off from berry-picking, per the farm's directive. (Though I did overhear later that someone will be picking; go figure). Anyhow, this is in keeping with the alternating day schedule they have me on. Work one day, take the next off (fill in the rationale; alarm clock setting jerkaround, appointments, weather, etc.) now running seven days so far.

And even if I did a 11 hour sleep at my mother's place, I am still being rendered down to be tired and lagging in physical effort. I moved two composts together this morning and early afternoon while there, building a new pile up with wetting and accelerant layering. There was the "usual" discovery and planting of various plastic scraps and objects, all of which they have me get cranked about and then stop the digging activity to pull it out. I don't know why the perps like me to see and be exposed to plastic scraps while doing compost pile building, but given their inexahaustable interest in each subject, why, combining them is just the ticket to piss off the TI victim. I had the usual elevated accompnying noise in the neighborhood, drilling, machine whine, aircraft noise, hotrods in suburbia etc. Often the noise onset or stoppage was coincidental with touching plastic, the garden implements, turning the hose on etc. Just the stuff of high sicko excitement.

Playing up the physical toll of berry picking, now considerably better now that we have moved onto raspberries, is still in progress as mentioned above. They make out that I am physically feeling ragged, all the more suspicious with this alternating on/off work schedule. Then the 11 hour sleeps, the second within four days, don't seem to make a difference either. And these are the same assholes who keep pumping on me to get an oilfield job, 10/4 schedules, often 12hr/day, constantly on the go, and here they are ragging me over berry picking. Fucking stupid, much like everything from that quarter.

And more often, the sickos are creating pain and touchings when there is no physical contact. I got jabbed twice in the fingertip when making tea, as if it were a stray tayberry thorn from yesterday, but nothing was there, and even more blatant, my finger was not pressing on anything at the moment to cause such a point specific pain. Within a minute or so, they moved the pain site to the side of the finger, which again, was not in contact with anything at that moment. Only five minutes later, I am typing away with no pain sensations, as I couldn't find a thorn in the first place. Hopefully I can start on blueberry picking to remove the excuses, though I am sure they have something planned for that; job productivity adversities, back pain from the repeat crouching and standing activity or whatever. It is all planned out.

As is this dumbshit mini-cough that erupts when I am about to say anything, think of something unscripted or concurr with a sicko planted notion. They also plant this absurd cough on me when I turn a corner while walking. Both my speech and hearing is selectively impaired by this fuckery, and I am fucking fed up as I don't have a viral cold in the first place. There, I just finished screaming at the assholes as they wouldn't let me type "cold", and that was the assigned "reaction", along with taking off my earmuffs in advance. And too, to end this little reportage for now.

2050h
And let us not forget it is a Monday, post stayover at the home of the First Feral Family, and is usually exploited with extra adversity and gangstalking. The blonde saleswoman was all over me tonight at the car dealership cleaning job. Nicely dressed in white and heels, and somehow managing to walk ahead of me, cross paths, be in close proximity to the Sales-males, and also clustering in a final bohomie with the rather predatory Sales Manager assistant. The guy is named D, and the bossman got his name wrong, playing up the initial three month confusion as to who was D and who was B when they shared the same mangerial office with only B's name on it. And D, acting very managerial doing his skulking/"overseeing". Now, they actually know my name. Very strange, but peoples' names are a big deal for the perps, much noted of late.

How noted is also a novel harassment jerkaround; I get this mini-cough, about three to 10 coughings an hour, and often timed when saying or listening to a name, when turning a corner, or in various cognitive realizations (end of a page, end of a book, end of reading a sentence, recognition of a familiar face etc.). Instead of the perp assholes doing their coordinated "cough stalking", why, lets have the victim do coughing instead, and make up some lung congestion BS to go along with it, to drive some more color out of his lungs, typically first thing in the morning when showering.

It is that time to get off to bed for the early bus to the berry picking. And do the food preparations; the perps go silly with noisestalking while I am cracking the hazelnuts I bought last year.

2120h
A extra addition: what is it about managed incompetance that fascinates the perps? I get a telephone message to return the call to make an appointment. I am berry picking, and I am not at home during office hours so I email the office to pass the message to the barely audible named person. Nothing happens, so I reply by phone in the evening and leave a message at the supplied phone number. Nothing happens, so now I email the person on who's behalf she is making the meeting arrangements for. Three rounds to deal with one managed inefficiency, compounded by the person's name not being determinable from the telephone message. It never fucking ends, this ongoing adversity over the simplest of things.