Even during the migraine

Last night, I woke up and I realized I was better.  Oh, I spent some time praising God, let me tell you. 

This morning, and most of today, I still battled hideous nausea.  I felt pretty limp. 

Ron woke and and asked me why I was "Acting funny".  I got pretty mad.  It's like he totally forgot, again, that I had a migraine. 

It was bad enough, last night, of all the things he could have eaten for dinner, to heat up a hamburger when I'm queasy.  I suggested, today, that if I ever say "I am queasy" to please eat something out of the package without warming it, like a bag of peanuts.  He got an attitude. 

After he ate the burger, he got upset about something to do with the aluminum can recycling bag.  He banged them around, loudly, for several minutes.  While I had a migraine.  Why?  I never got an answer on that. 

I figured reacting, when he was obviously wasted, was just going to feed more obnoxious behavior.  Then he began cursing me because of the aluminum can bag, while loudly banging it, the overwhelming aroma of smoked meat hanging in the air.   While I had a migraine. 

And he wonders why I was subdued this morning.  Of course, he called it "wierd". 

"Why are you acting wierd today?  What is wrong with you?" 

Well, let's see, if you could BOTHER to remember, I just spent the last 24 hours very sick!  Not only that, the man who swore before God that he'd love and respect me does anything but.....

I simply said I was tired.  He asked if he did something.  I didn't respond.  Then he did the Oh, God, what did I do this time routine - but it was like reading a script and not really caring. 

It's some alcoholic game, and I told him I am tired of playing alcoholic games, with an alcoholic.  I told him he ought to know what he did every second of every day, and I was tired of telling him.  It was some sick game, and I wasn't playing anymore. 

Then he decided, since I wouldn't be his "persecutor", that he didn't do anything wrong.  He actually told me I HAD to videotape him acting up before he would believe it.  He kept telling me I HAD to do it. 

He can just wake up in jail one day, or the hospital, or the infirmary at a jail.  They can tell him what he did, and "prove" it to him. 



I told him I didn't have to do anything, and if he didn't realize he had a problem I had nothing else to say.  I told him I realized that vodka and eating out with friends was more important than my needs, or even paying me. 

I then told him I wished God would let me leave him.  That time has not arrived, yet.  Ranting on Ron's part about being "stuck" with me, and I admittedly made some baiting comments about how he didn't need me in his life.  He didn't want me, that was clear.  Why didn't he just get me out of his life? 

Then he started ranting about me acting "Crazy" (translation = NOT a codependent doormat).  What was wrong with me, blah blah.  Go take a pill. 

If he had ever bothered to ask, with concern, I could have told him that no, I hadn't been able to take my medication for 24 hours due to the nausea.  However, at that very moment I was gagging it down with some plain oatmeal. 

We went to work.  I dealt with the customers.  They avoid Ron.  A pipe broke under the sink and, well, I'll just say I'd never hire the plumber to work in my home.  Come to think of it, he had a rather familiar rosy glow..... 

You know Ron actually asked me to tell him if he starts getting the alcoholic red face?  I wasn't quite sure how to say "You already have it".  It is ironic that I, a complete non-drinker, has a flushed face due to my antidepressant.  I wonder if people think I might drink. 

Anyway, a lot of fumbling around under the sink, not having the tool to shut off the water, etc.  It ended with guys from maintenance and a shop-vac, and our area completely blocked off from the customers.  Happily, the machines were fine. 

They finally cleaned it all up before we left.  I stocked everything.  I am dead serious when I say the ONLY thing selling are those saltine crackers.  Sales are tragic. 

Ron finally deigned to pay me, about when I was preparing to tell him "If I don't get my money today, you'll be going to work by yourself on delivery day".  I thanked him, and said "Remember how angry you got when Mike kept making excuses about why he couldn't pay me?"  I told him I was glad he wasn't that person.  His face twitched.  He was so furious at that man.

If he has to cut my pay, I completely understand.  If he wants more help with the bills, I understand.  I don't understand going crosstown and buying over 20 cans of chilli, buying cases of liquor at the liquor store, and eating out to the tune of over $100 - all in a weeks' time, and saying he didn't have money to pay me. 

I don't make that much money. 

I have a vague feeling I need to write him a letter or something.  Try to make him understand, but what? 

He is stuck in the bottle, having his pity party.  To him, life is dark and miserable. 

Me, I see the good in life.  Even during the migraine, I really enjoyed listening to the doves cooing outside my window.