Ode to Heather

When Ron gets drunk he often gets very talkative.  He likes to call people and talk. 

It used to bug me, because he slurs his words and it was obvious he had a few.  But, I figured, so what if people know.  He has an illness and I am not supporting it so what does it matter? 

Anyway, the last couple nights he has been calling all his friends; and singing the "ode to Heather": Heather is the best cook.  My wife is so smart.  My wife is great about purchasing songs for me to download.  My wife found me the best talking watch ever....

Because he has been drinking, he fails to realize he is speaking in a very LOUD voice.  It's cute. 

Probably one of the few times in my life I've enjoyed eavesdropping, on someone discussing me!  

"She makes the BEST hamburgers!"  [grin] 

I'm glad I didn't yell at him about the barbeque sauce on the floor.  It looked like he had a really good time heating up a cooked, frozen, burger - applying sauce, dropping some on the (thankfully tile) floor, and then stepping in it and tracking it all over.  [snort]  I needed to mop anyway, and beating him up after the fact would just make him feel bad. 

I'm just glad I was wrong; it looked like blood.  I was rather alarmed. 

Today, depression was munching me pretty bad this morning.  I decided to take a nap. 

Ron came in the room, sat on the floor by the bed, and began yet another impassioned ode.  He loves me.  No, really... he loves me.  More than anything, because I am ME...

It was very sweet.  I appreciated it.   It was a nice counterpoint to some nasty depression.