You can't find orange juice in a can of Dr Pepper

I slept alright considering, and when I got up one of my hives (I had eaten a quesadilla = wheat) was driving me nuts.  I had to apply my steroid cream and then bandage it. 

We went to work for quite a while; and I did a tremendous amount.  Ron thanked me several times; but in my head all I heard was "You're a broken piece of sh!t" - which he kept shouting at me last night. 

I don't know if I mentioned this on the other blog; but when I found the papers I decided not to tell him.  1.  He was leaving me alone at the time and 2.  I didn't want to reward bad behavior if he was cursing me out. 

At one point, he said "How do I know you aren't deliberately HIDING them, making me run up penalties?"  What?  Why would he even think I am that kind of person? 

Not to mention, I told him AGAIN and AGAIN, we can print new forms off the internet; they don't care what you send it with as long as the "account number" is written on the check!  No, they had to be THOSE papers, and when, after an hour and a half of him coming out of his room, cursing and making threats, then retreating; I finally snapped and said "I have HAD them.... if you had been a decent person for one minute I would have told you!" 

He really thinks this is OK.  He really thinks it is OK to break every promise he has made regarding drinking; some within a day of making them. He really thinks it is fine to wage warfare on me. 

I left him a voicemail this morning.  In it, I tell him, in a calm voice (except for the very end, which I will italicize), I am holding a can of diet Dr Pepper in my hand.  I tell him, that's what it says on the can.  I open the can - the sound is clear.  I tell him I'm going to take a sip.  "EWww!  It's DR PEPPER!  I wanted ORANGE JUICE!"  I then proceed to curse the can, tell it I hate it, it's a broken piece of sh!t, etc... all the stuff he was saying to me.  Then I tell him I'm going to take another sip.  "Still Dr Pepper." 

I ended the message by saying.  I knew it was a can of Dr Pepper when I picked it up.  You had better decide if you want Dr Pepper, or orange juice.

Meaning, of course, you have known for nearly 20 years I have brain damage.  You have no right to get outraged when I, rarely, prove it.  And, cursing me out isn't going to to change the fact.  The funniest part of all?  We got to work.  He had made a big deal last night out of "Give me the papers".  He put them on the handcart (terrible idea).  He asked me to put up the sodas on the cart.  So there I am with the papers.  "You keep them" he says. 

Later on, "I want to mail one thing, but not the other".  I go off and find the checkbook (I know where it is).  The stamps (I know where they are).  I get out a pen.  I get out the paperwork.  I make it out and tell him the amount, write the check (including the very long account number on the check to ensure proper processing), insert into the envelope and close it.  I mail it after confirming. 

Later on, I'm in the middle of something else.  "I want you to mail the school tax."  So I do.  He thanks me, and I am dying to say something like "I thought I was a broken piece of ..."  I just put the checkbook back where it belonged, and the stamps.  Then I went back to my work.  Overall, I do great, but on occasion, especially when juggling MULTIPLE "important papers", I lose them. 

I did some calculations.  I can live nearby; close enough that I could walk to the house on early delivery days.  I would need to work about 20-25 additional hours a week to make the income required.  I can certainly manage that.  I would probably need to work nights; because I would rather work through the night than come home at 11 or so PM. 

If and when I move out; I am sure God will help "set it up".  At present, I am running depressed and I have a "No major decisions" policy when I am "sick" (up, down, or mixed). 

I don't think Ron will ever change.  I believe he will continue with the verbal abuse and the drinking.  Last night, he took (in my presence) Tylenol, Benadryl, Neurontin, and had at least 5 drinks that I saw. 

Unless God says otherwise, I intend to get another job, and move out.  I would continue to care for Ron (laundry, shopping, meal prep, etc), and help him at work.  He literally can't do it without me - I had to fix a vending machine again today.  He barely knows how to stock it. 

Last night I found some great Bible Verses during my God Time:
Ephesians Chapter 4 (HCSB Translation)
²⁹ No rotten talk should come from your mouth, but only what is good for the building up of someone in need,  in order to give grace to those who hear. ³⁰ And don't grieve God's Holy Spirit,  who sealed you  for the day of redemption.  ³¹ All bitterness, anger and wrath, insult and slander must be removed from you, along with all wickedness. ³² And be kind  and compassionate  to one another, forgiving  one another, just as God also forgave you  in Christ.

That is exactly what Ron needs to do. 

Oh, by the way, recently I have been riding with some HORRIBLE drivers.  Today's was ranting about how someone "called in" on him and filed a report, as he almost wove off the road, then rear-ended someone.  "ONLY ONE?" I thought!

Yike.  So, maybe my time is shorter than I thought!  If so, don't cry, I'm in my new body and petting Frosty!