Maybe it's the weather (icy cold, windy, and damp) but somewhere along the way today I got irritated. It seems like everything's just feeding my bad mood. It's not the bipolar, so maybe I'll blame hormones.
Hey, the uterus ought to be good for something, since I'm not reproducing with it. All in all, it was a good day, that's the sad part.
We went into work. The machines looked great. Our milkman was a little later than expected but not bad. He's a good guy, I like him. When I brought the milk back, I helped Ron. I did my candy inventory as we were going to Sam's club. I got my box ready and left.
After I got out to the bus stop with the box (and my backpack and purse), Ron called to "remind" me to add dimes to the change banks. I went back cheerfully and filled them.
Ron was in a very gloomy mood today, angry at God. I told him I can only take so much negativity and asked him to tone it down a little. He did a decent job.
When we got to Sam's Ron told me he wanted me to buy him alcohol. It's been my experience that Ron in anything other than a sunny mood + alcohol = trouble. I said no. We ended up having a pretty heated argument. I told him no and I meant it. He accused me of trying to control him; I told him, no I can only control what I do. I chose not to buy it. He was very angry and tried to say he was fine last time. I said, you have a track record of "being fine" for a while and then all hell breaks loose, you're sorry, you'll never do it again, why won't I buy it, if you won't buy it you don't love me, see I was fine, buy me more, all hell breaks lose. He accused me of living in the past, being crazy and of defective judgement. No, my judgement's only defective if I'm dumb enough to buy liquor. I said all I would buy is one box of red wine a month, I broke my policy once, now I have to close the door I left open. Not easy.
He tried to get a freind to buy it, and they said no. He called Sam's club (several times) and asked for someone to help him buy this alcohol. Eventually, someone did. While I was out in the rain and cold waiting on Metrolift.
We got a ride home finally and I put up the candy while the driver had a heart attack over putting Ron on the van. He's only blind, but you'd swear he's 90 years old the way she carried on. I gave her directions and she kept misinterpreting them. I had to give her very simple directions again and again. Ron accused me (under his breath) of being rude. I'm sorry, but talking on your cell phone to a family member while a client is trying to give you directions is rude. She was complaining about being hungry (well, eat the candy I gave you) and I've got to pee. The pain is immense.
She offers to "stop", I said, I'll be fine when I get home, at the same time Ron's telling the driver to go ahead and stop at the grocery store and get something to eat. She didn't. I'm sorry, but you know you're on the road for 12 hours. Bring snacks! I do and I'm not even a driver.
We get home. Now he's asking for "help" every couple minutes. What is the mail on the counter? Where are the chips he brought home days ago? I finally told him "When I get up I will put cat food on the grocery list". I'm not jumping to do your bidding every time you want something. I'm not your slave.
We had severe weather come in, and my lettuce transplants took a beating. It's a tragedy to me, but Ron won't sympathize.
My books didn't arrive, either. :-(
No wonder I'm in a bad mood.
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