Bad company and good character

While reading Jiilian's Blog, I was convicted of my potty mouth.  It got me thinking about bad company and good character.  Ron's always been a profane fellow, and it bothered me a lot at first.  However, he's one of those "You can't control me" types, AND I was pretty backslidden for quite a while, so I picked up his bad habit. 

Now I'm not proud of it, but I haven't worked on it recently.  Every now and then God bops me over the head with an issue that needs work: Heather, don't be a gossip.  Heather, don't be negative.  Heather, don't be a potty mouth.  And just because bad  company can corrupt, doesn't mean it should. 

Today was a very wierd day.  Very little sleep, the Barkappotamous was at it all night long.  My neighbor, a lovely man of Latino origin, worked a long day.  He leaves about 5-6 every morning every day.  Last night he got home at 6, the minute I went to bed, and began playing a loud game outside with the children. 

After 7 years, I have finally learned a valuable lesson: on delivery eve, sleep on the pull-out couch.  Sure as the sun rises in the east, he will play with the kids. 

I'm a little envious, to be honest.  My Dad was always completely exhausted when he got home from work.  I always knew he loved me, but I would have loved to run around in the yard with him for an hour or so when he got home. 

Dad doesn't read the blog, so I feel OK writing that.  I know Dad loves me and would have, and would do anything for me.  That kind of foundation is vital.   Way to go, neighbor.  You are building great people. 

I got up at 2 AM and did my God Time.  I wasn't the most coherent, but He loves me and understood.  Happily, I had taken my shower last night so I didn't need one today. 

Off to work.  Yes, I will talk about it. 

A man at work died recently.  He had cancer, and was in hospice.  His wife is an employee.  We have about 800 people at work. 

She arranged to have a large floral arrangement delivered, on a tripod.  It stands directly in front of the door to the cafeteria. 

I was so glad I was with Ron when I saw it.  I was able to show him the display and warn him not to knock it over.  So what has he done all day?  Make horrible, tasteless, "jokes" about knocking it over. 

I will be the first to say, I am not Miss Manners.  I have a lot of trouble with social conventions and occasionally say the wrong thing.  People have gotten angry or upset at me as a result. 

However, making jokes about knocking over a FUNERAL ARRANGEMENT?  Repeatedly?  I found it very offensive.  I tried to tell Ron, but he didn't want to hear it.  I at least got him to shut up about it. 

I was worried his wife, or a friend, might hear him and complain.  "I got hit by a truck" may cover a faux pas or two, but I don't think it would cover THAT. 

I prayed about it and God let me know "Stop reacting".  So he made more comments, I ignored him, and he stopped. 

Today, he kept baiting me.  I worked nonstop from the minute we got to work.  At 5:30, our customary delivery time, I told him I was going to go check on the delivery.  He told me I hadn't "done anything".  I said when was that?  When I just filled the soda machine?  Or before that, when I.... ?   Then I left, to get the delivery, which HAD arrived. 

He apologized for that, but then kept making the comments about the flowers.  After 6 hours, I was hungry.  The labor laws say I am entitled to a break, and a lunch, if I work more than 5 hours.  I never, ever, take a lunch.  I usually take a 5 minute break and that's it. 

I sat down to eat a bag of peanuts.  I had received a delivery, unloaded the palllet, done the meter readings, stocked several vending machines, etc.  I was exhausted and so tired my legs hurt.  Ron came in, demanding I do something he could do himself.  I said, I'm taking a break. 

AGAIN? Oh, I was mad.  Except for a 2 minute trip to the bathroom, it was the first minute I had sat down all day.  I was entitled to my bag of peanuts, if nothing else.  If Ron had another employee, he'd INSIST they take a break, AND a lunch.  But I'm just Heather. 

"Look," I told him "Labor Laws say I get a break AND a lunch.  Do you want me to take both, or eat my bag of peanuts and go back to work?"  Some profanity, and he left.  The fun part, the profanity and cursing all happened in front of the other vendor, his wife, and their employees. 

That's one of the things that bothers me about him; he's always asking me to do things he could easily do himself.  Now, yesterday, he obviously couldn't move a cinderblock, so I moved them.  I'm fine with that.  But if he has a small piece of cardboard, he doesn't need to make the truly annoying "Paging" grunt and insist I come and dispose of it, when not 6 feet away he knows about the trash can. 

It gets old.  Now he just "warned" me that he took extra Neurontin, vodka, and "hopes" he doesn't "go buggo tonight".  Thanks.  I'll sleep great now. 

Now that the weather is nicer, I am truly, seriously, considering buying a tent and setting it up in the yard for times like that. 

I have TRIED to tell him, alcohol causes and exacerbates neuropathy, but he doesn't want to hear it.  If he could stop the drinking, I bet he would make a complete, or nearly so, recovery from the neuropathy.  Fairytales. 

In addition to all that, he was completely negative and depressing all day.  I really think he wants me to be as miserable and hopeless as he is.  Whenever I say something remotely positive, he wants to knock it down, kind of like the arcade game "Whack-a-mole" (the player has a "bat" they use to hit the "moles" as they pop up.  If you strike all the moles, you win the game). 

Finally, time to go.  I was beat.  Ron is making really snide, ugly, comments.  I was so happy to go out to the cab.  He generally behaves in front of witnesses. 

We had a driver I like, and I gave her some "candy".  She was thrilled.  I did it before Ron came out, because he tends to make negative comments when I hand out the Bibles. 

We got home.  Ron made really rude remarks about me "Going to bed, because you're in a bad mood".  ME?   I hardly said anything all day - because he was baiting me and trying to make me mad.  I'm no one's toy, and I refuse to play. 

I did.  I woke up about 45 minutes later, about to rupture, and urinated.  Back to sleep.  I had a wierd dream, which is my signal to wake, my body's had enough sleep. 

Ron was in an even worse mood.  Go back to bed, Heather, you're not being nice! 

How?  I said "Hi!  I'm up now, and I'm going to go work in my garden."  I was very cheerful.  How is that... agh. 

So, I went and worked in my garden.  I had a good time.  I need some more soil to fill the raised garden bed.  I plan to get a mix of topsoil, sand, and compost.  I stole some soil, from under the ash tree.  It was good stuff.

About the only place Ron does not make demands of me, is in my garden.  I don't take my cell phone, for one.  It seems foolish to hang a $200 computer around my neck when I am doing active things, and using a hose.  Besides, whatever it is can wait. 

I had fun in the garden for a while, watered the corn, and talked to my aunt for about an hour when she called.  It was nice to vent a little. 

I love Ron, I'm absolutely committed to him, and I know there's a good guy in there.  I get so tired of the endless negativity, et al.  I actually told him I had said he had "Deep existential Issues" and he agreed.  He really liked it. 

This is where, I would make the twitchy face, if this were a video blog.  Since bad company can corrupt good character, my objective is to remain positive and hopeful; I think my natual optimism is one of my greatest assets.  Remember that Bad Things can, will, and DO use my husband to attack me.  Don't let the negativity and doom infect me like a virus. 

Basically, put on the rubber gloves and haz-mat suit before I deal with the toxins.  [grin]   I don't want to "catch" it. 

It was a lovely day, by the way, and I had a wonderful time.  I can hardly wait to see what the garden holds tomorrow.  When will my beans sprout?  How much will the corn grow? 

Oh, yeah, and work on the Bad Words, too.