Saturday, February 28, 2015

Pit Bull

Two delivery days in a row. 

I'm pretty exhausted. 

Yesterday, Dr Pepper.  I also found out my phone didn't work.  The sales rep didn't set up the auto pay so the phone "suspended". 

That was fun. 

We worked a long day, came home, I think I got a nap, and then went to the sporting goods store.  I looked around and found a few things. 

By the time I got home, I was wiped out.  I took my medication and went to bed. 

We had truck day today.  30 cases of soda plus another 20 or so of snacks.  I decided to "try" the peach iced tea.  Ron loves it, and so do the customers.  I think I'll be selling a lot more in the future. 

Of course I had that one customer - the one who wants the thing no one else wants, and not even that often. 

I'm sorry, I need to move a high volume of product.  I can't just tie up inventory and shelf space in case you "feel" like buying the specialty item now and again. 

I didn't say that, of course.  I believe I told her "We can only stock items that will move quickly, and it wasn't moving quickly."  With an an apologetic smile, of course. 

I can stock insanely popular, popular, and moderately popular items, but that's about it. 

I did everything, and even stocked the gum and coffee (not in the same machine!  [giggle])

Ron and I had an argument before work - he was, in my opinion, being completely unreasonable.  I told him so and put on my headphones. 

He had some time to think while I was getting our merchandise, and apologized to me by the time I finished.  Sincerely.  He even said "I acted like an asshole". 

I forgave him. 

We had enough time at work that I could do my job and help him with his.  For instance, Soda 2 needed several cases.  However, Ron was busy doing other things. 

Now, I could have said "That isn't as important, you need to do this", but, since I had done my work and I had time, I could just go do it myself.  Ron was very grateful. 

I will say this: as a husband, and a boss, Ron has become very appreciative.  I am a hard worker and I will do whatever it takes, but I do like to hear "Thank you, you are a huge help to me" now and then - and he does let me know. 

After work, we had to go to the cell phone store.  Our sales rep messed up the account when he set it up. 

I found out when the phone stopped working yesterday due to "overdue bill".  We had set it up, we thought, for auto-pay. 

We had to go to the mall and spend a fair amount of time sorting out the account, paying the bill, and setting it up for autopay.  I have what I need to do a lot of this stuff online now. 

I love my phone.  I love what it does.  It is perfect for me.  I have been very happy with the company, and figured it was just a billing screw up. 

I was right. 

Ron was my "pit bull".  He definitely went on the attack.  I was the "good cop", reining him in.  "I'm sure they're going to fix this, Ron."  "They'd better!" 

They got it fixed.  Ron also has the number to file a formal complaint against the sales rep. 


All that done, finally... time for dinner - but the lines at all the food court were huge.  We went to Taco Bell. 

My pills are OK with a chicken burrito and chicken quesadilla.  I was a little worried I'd be nauseous all night. 

I'm not, but boy am I tired. 

Thank God I have tomorrow off. 

Thursday, February 26, 2015

"I can eat bacon"

Depressed today.  I did sleep OK, didn't wake up with a headache.  I started my cycle - late - I have to figure menopause is around the corner and I am completely fine with it.  I'm having a lot of cramps. 

I always figured, married to Ron, I'd regret my "lack" of children more and more, the older I got.  The reverse has happened.  In my late teens I'd see a cute baby and think "Awww". 

Now I think, that's probably 7-9 thousand diapers to be changed before potty training.  I only have to clean the litterboxes once a day, which would be criminally abusive with a child. 

Of course I also have the "medication causes birth defects" issue.  "Childbirth would trigger a psychotic break" issue, "Sleep deprivation is really, really bad" issue - ha! 

Aside from all that, I honestly think I would be a poor mother.  I have mental illness.  I have to take care of myself and put myself first, at times.  Kids, from what I hear, always come first, even when they're grown. 

They did a study on head injury patients.  The most common caregiver?  Parents.  Parents are used to taking care of their child, so it's "natural" to slip back into the role.  Spouses and children have a much harder time with the victim in a dependent, needy, role. 

Like I said, depressed today. 

I did do my God time.  I had a moderate headache so I couldn't take my antidepressant (if I do I just vomit).  We went to Taco Bell. 

Taco Bell is very close to the Post Office.  I had a package for Mom and Dad.  A few things for each of them.  I'd put them into a large flat rate box (I am a huge fan). 

I brought the box and set Ron up with a crunchwrap and a burrito.  He called me, disgusted.  "This is white people food.  It has no flavor".  I told him the "guy" in their commercials is almost always a 20 something year old white man.  "That's their demographic". 

"It's awful, even with hot sauce."  Ron then proceeded to call 1-800-TACOBELL and complained.  They thanked him and he hung up. 

I went off to the Post Office.  It was in the 30's.  Very chilly, clear, and sunny, but windy.  I saw dying mosquitoes everywhere.  They hatched when the weather was nice and then the cold snap nailed them. 

I didn't feel sorry for the dying mosquitoes!  I am candy to them, and always getting bitten. 

I took my time taping the box.  I have seen how priority mail boxes are handled at work, just a part of it is enough to ensure a lot of taping on my part.  I have seen just a part of the processing.  It involves "crab cages" - a huge, metal, rolling cage, at ground level.  They are filled with packages.  Then the handler picks up the package and throws it into a "tow behind" metal rolling rack.  God only knows what happens after that. 

I package my items to be thrown around, dropped, etc.  No one's ever complained. 

On the other hand, I've gotten things that had minimal tape, no padding, and were fine - like the computer I got in 2012.  My brother in law, God love him, literally placed the computer into the box with disks and manuals only, then put a little tape and shipped it.  Amazingly, while the box was pretty beat up, but the contents were fine. 

Well, I figure, that was God. 

One time I got a one pint jar of honey in a cardboard box that had been run over by a tow motor.  The package was completely crushed.  However, when I opened it, the honey was fine.  It was good, too. 

So, I got it mailed.  The clerk is very nice.  She told me they are cutting staff, which I find foolish.  It is a very busy office.  We gossiped a little and I left. 

I went back, got a couple of breakfast tacos.  "I can eat bacon" I told Ron "But sausage in any form makes me nauseous now."  He just gaped at me. 

I was fine eating my bacon things.  I also got 2 cinnabon delights.  They were very, very sweet.  Good but extremely sweet.  "It's like" I told Ron "A cinnamon roll made love to a cheese croissant."  He made a face and kept eating his sausage. 

Our driver came on time, and is a really delightful man.  I like him a lot.  I do have my favorites. 

We went home.  I was a little manic by now (it's called ultra rapid cycling, and considered "bad").  I decided to clean up the bedroom. 

I couldn't find my passport.  I was pretty alarmed.  I keep a little cash in there also in case I need to leave for the night.  I tore the bedroom apart for an hour. 

I laid down, trying to take a nap.  I was pretty agitated and beating myself up.  I had horrid visions of trying to get a new passport and social security card.  Not to mention the money. 

I finally managed to fall nearly asleep, and was thinking about the last time I'd seen it.  I'd wanted to put $20 into it.  I thought it was too obvious where I had it.  A burglar could find it, steal my cash and my identity.  I had to move it. 

But where?  When my house was robbed the first places searched were under my bed, dresser, and top of dresser - all places I might have used.  I remembered thinking "It has to be easy for me to grab, yet oblivious to a criminal." 

Biscuit kitty came along, and walked all over me purring.  He knew I was upset and hurting (cramps!).  I finally remembered! 

I won't say where because it's obviously a good hiding place.  :p  I did have a nice little nap with Biscuit. 

WHEW.  What a day. 

I did organize the bag I would take with me if I had to run out.  I had a lot of toiletries, way too many, in my opinion.  I pared it down to a bar of soap and some deodorant.  I need a small brush, though, and some hair elastics. 

I woke up, talked to Ron, did some accounting stuff. 

Ron got very emotional listening to a love song and thanked me very sincerely, and profusely, for "Sticking around". 

I don't see it as a big deal.  Yes, I hear a lot of "Once I became disabled, my wife left" stories, particularly on one message board.  I know people sure acted like I was either insane (I am, ha ha), or some kind of holy saint, for "keeping him" (anything good you see in me is God). 

I did it for one reason: to live with myself.  That's all. 

I love Ron, he does better when I'm around.  When he's having a meltdown I am the only one who can calm him down.  Usually, I feel valued and respected. 

So he's in a wheelchair?  So freaking what?  It's a tool, like my glasses.  He didn't run off when I needed bifocals. 

I'll refer back to one of my earlier statements: he does better when I'm around.  So, that's it. 

I have to live with myself, and my God, and I would have a hard time with both if I had walked out on Ron because he looked "messy and difficult".  He was, at first, but has made huge strides with the head injury. 

Physically, I have resigned myself: he's going to have a setback, every couple years.  I just need to expect that.  I would always rather expect the worst, and have a nice surprise, than to expect continued improvement and have a huge grief process because he went back in the wheelchair (like I did last year). 

Hey, I'm no treat.  Unmedicated severe bipolar for 14 years before diagnosis.  Let's just think on that for a minute.  Do you know an unmedicated person with bipolar disorder?  Would you want to sleep in bed with someone like that? Trust them to have your back? 


Ron did, for 14 years.  

Ron is very accepting of my mental illness.  I see the looks I get when I mention having hallucinations.  People cringe, like I might infect them.  Boy, that makes me feel warm and fuzzy - but I feel education is more important than stigma.

Over the years, I do feel I have helped educate some people who needed information; people with bipolar family members, or even those with it themselves.  That's worth some gossip and stigmatization.

Ron is very supportive of my drive to "Be the person I needed after my diagnosis" and even does his own education.

I think, at the end of it, we try to have each other's backs.  

That's worth a lot. 

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Say no to chicken strips

I woke up pretty depressed, then flipped into a mania.  Ugh. 

I couldn't shut up!  Ron was half kidding when he asked me for 2 minutes of silence. 

We went to the dentist.  He had his crown mounted.  Happily that was pretty cheap. 

The crown was more expensive than exams for all the cats, vaccines for all the cats, and neutering for both kittens!  "Crowns" are aptly named.  I don't feel at all guilty about the vet bills. 

Happily I have never had a crown.  I think I have some 4 sided composite fillings, but that's it.  I have about 10 or so fillings, total, I think.  I got all of them in the late 90's.  I had one done on a back molar several years ago, that one actually cropped up after Ron's accident. 

I had 4 teeth pulled to make room for braces; 4 wisdom teeth pulled.  I also had a cyst extracted from my upper jaw and I have some scar tissue on the inside of my mouth, sticking the cheek to the gumline.  Because of that I developed 3 nasty cavities behind that - the saliva couldn't get back and keep things fresh. 

Anyway, Ron is the one with dental issues these days.  I just get the odd gingivitis attack from my dry mouth.  Crowns, fillings, root canals, broken teeth, you name it. 

I figure he will be in dentures, in another 10 years, assuming we don't get raptured.  Which means, I'll have to clean them.  Ewwwww. 

Oh, well.  Ron has a fatalist attitude.  "It's too late to take proper care of my teeth". 

After the visit - Ron looked a lot happier, feeling the new crown with his tongue, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

Doc said he could eat so we did that.  I got a few things at the store, and we went to work. 

It was, as expected, pretty slow, but like Ron said we did stock 120 bottles of soda, if nothing else.  I did a couple dozen bags of chips. 

I ate a chicken lunch plate for lunch.  Generally, I hate chicken but it looked good, it was affordable, the deli is stringent about food safety, and I had to eat.  I wasn't getting on my own nerves but if I'm getting very chatty then it's probably time to take my mood stabilizers (which I had). 

I ate 2 large strips (I gave the third to Ron, who ate about a pound of strips total), mac and cheese, and potato wedges, along with a soda and the medication.  Within 20 minutes I knew I'd made a bad mistake. 

Oh, rolicking sea of nausea.  I was OK until we started home.  We picked up another client at the community college.  She began talking about her church's fried fish dinner, discussing the sides, the seasonings used on the fish, the desserts... and she got a look at me and stopped.

We had to ride around for an hour and a half - pretty standard for a later afternoon pickup.  [sigh]  Not a problem, except for the nausea and a desperate need to pee.

But hey, I wasn't depressed, and too tired (from medication) to be really manic.  I didn't even have a headache!

When we got home Ron bolted for the bathroom.  Once he exited I emptied my bladder and ripped open a bottle of Pepto, chugging straight from the bottle.  That did help a bit; then I took a short nap.

I woke up feeling a little better.

Tomorrow I mail a care box to Mom and Dad.  They have had a lot of stress with Dad's heart problems so I figure they can use a few treats.  

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Tech day

I added some new photos to the slideshow. 

It took me FOREVER to figure out how to load the phone drivers to my computer.  I finally got it today.  I hope I did. 

Anyway, BABIES! 
Biscuit's on the left. 

The last two - the boys sugaring Ron after their rescue.  I'm glad they felt we were worth a little effort. 

It's been tech day, that's for sure. 

Last night I decided to buy half a dozen songs from Amazon.  I got some Gospel Rap, and "Fancy".  I find it funny and sarcastic when I look at my own life; because I'm not.  I got the clean version. 

Anyway, while attempting to download somehow I selected everything in my cloud, over 500 songs.  I was horrified. 

I decided to let it go ahead.  I did find a couple things I'd missed, and 2 things Ron wants. 

Of course it took me 2 days to clean up my playlist.  I bought a LOT of Ron's music on my account, and I found the new playlist a horrifying mixture of country, old soul, classic rock, etc. 

I am pretty simple: I have old gospel, headbanger screaming Jesus metal, and gospel rappers.  I have a few odd other things like world music, but that's pretty much it. 

I guess I'm pretty narrowminded in my music taste, but I'm fine with that.  It's my music. 

We went to Walmart this morning.  I bought the home carbonation soda maker from Hamilton Beach.  I like it.  I just want to get some more CO2.  God knows I have plenty of syrup.

My mood was actually pretty decent, even though I woke up with a progressively worsening headache.  PMS meet weather front.  Ugh.

Shower, God Time, Walmart.

I came home.  The headache wasn't quitting.  I took a nap, it got worse.

I woke up, made myself some diet root beer, and took some aspirin.  That helped.

My pharmacist told me I should take aspirin with my medications.  I figure it's a good idea.  They give aspirin to heart patients, too, and I have a pretty high risk for that.  We have a family history of A-fib.  My mother's already dead of a heart attack.  Anyway.

The aspirin worked.

I finally figured out my phone.  Apparently I needed to install an additional driver (they could have made that a lot easier), so I am officially 100% happy with Cricket now.

Now to put some new music on my cell phone.  

Monday, February 23, 2015

Beat the fur offa you

I'm going to start with last night.  Me, sitting in bed, on the verge of panic, trying to extract the earplug with tweezers and the damn thing won't come out! 

All the latino neighbors had "gatherings".  Three of them just around me.  They were all pretty quiet and I didn't hear any of those awful polkas, so I call it a win. 

I "should" have gone to bed at 6, but I could hear them talking in (their) backyard.  All Spanish of course.  OK.  Not going to bed yet.  I waited an hour.  Still talking.  They were, very clearly and apparently trying to "keep it down". 

I called Mom and Dad, an hour later, no talking but some noise.  OK.  Time for the earplugs.  I inserted them.  One of them seemed to protrude a bit so I pushed it in slightly. 

Not only was it very uncomfortable, it was also on the edge of hurting.  I decided to take it out.  But I couldn't! 

Ensue 20 minutes of drama, near hysterical, frantic applications of tweezers to exposed earplug section, my head tilted to one side, Ron trying to talk to me.  Not only can't I hear him, I don't want him to hear what happened until it's fixed.  I know he will be very upset and that will just feed my own distress. 

"I'll talk to you later" 

I kept thinking how I'd never get a cab to the urgent care center. 

I had to take several calming walks up and down the hallway (about 20 feet long).  I prayed - A LOT, and finally got the damned thing out. 

Of course my adrenaline was up and I couldn't have slept if you paid me.  I finally calmed down.  The visitors left around 9 - that's the nice thing about an infant in the house, they don't have late parties.  I fell asleep about half an hour later. 

Only problem: my wakeup was 2 AM.  However, I've often found that a 4 hour nap can hold me pretty well through delivery day. 

I did my God Time later, took a shower, and hoped we had a good driver this morning.  Some of them have personal, dramatic, agendas.  They pull up, back up beeping loudly, leave the door wide open and the dispatch radio blaring at maximum volume.  They do this at 3:30 AM. 

Here's a question: if I can hear the neighbors, do you think they can hear me?  Of course.  I want to be respectful.   I don't want to be hated.  I want Ron to be liked. 

However, when we ask the driver to please be quiet, a lot of them get a massive attitude and begin exclaiming in a very loud voice.  [facepalm] 

Do you understand the concept of quiet involves no shouting?  

Today, we had a great driver.  He's a little dour but he's good, and he's quiet!  We had a pretty good trip to work. 

I actually met a Metrolift dispatcher.  She was very nice and told me about the Bible Handouts before I mentioned them. 

I find it interesting, by the way, usually the high-drama posts get the most traffic.  I can see how many times a post is read.  Lately, it's been all about the Bible Handouts.  Every post with "Bible Handout" in the title is on the top list. 

I think it's good.  I hope they are inspired to go hand out Bibles themselves.  I don't think it's anything I do.  I'm just a tool in the shed. 

We got to work.  It was miserably cold.  I pushed Ron into the building and we went to work.  You could not tell, from looking at snacks, that I had been absent 3 days.  However, they did need some work.  I got started on that. 

We stocked everything, and I mean everything.  I got sandwiches and did them. 

However, no Dr Pepper.  Ron finally called.  A lot of excuses - it's not coming today. 

[Bad Word]   I got up at 2 AM, with 3 hour's sleep, for nothing. 

Ron and I got into a squabble.  It was embarrassing, especially as it happened in front of the union rep (one of them).  He thought it was hysterical.  I guess that's a good thing. 

Ron was very upset, and I had to leave him to let him cool down.  When he has a meltdown I can't talk to him or even push the wheelchair, he could react physically. 

You can imagine what would happen if he bopped me at work.  He almost did hit me, waving his hand in the air, but that would have been an accident.  So, I just left him. 

I didn't feel guilty about it. 

Ron came in later, making a concerted effort to "be in a good mood".  I had told the union guy, "I wouldn't talk to him, he's in a bad mood right now". 

Ron objected.  

Anyway, we finally got that that done.  We had done literally everything while waiting.  I put the carts away, lamenting I hadn't brought my Kindle.  I need to remember that on delivery days, or repairman.

Ron called and we actually got a ride within 45 minutes.  That's remarkable, especially since they sent the (another very nice) driver all the way from across town. 

We got to talking on the way home and we told her out theory that Torbie may have eaten the cord to a pair of Beats. 

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed  "Uh, uh.  I'm sorry, cat, but you do that I'm going to beat the fur offa you!" 

Ron and I laughed    I could just see the scene so clearly.  

We also discussed the importance of companies valuing and respecting their employees.  Just a box of donuts now and then can make a huge difference.  Say what you might about Ron, I know he values me.  We both know he can't do it without me.

We got home, several hours after we'd left. 

I heard the kittens wailing from my bedroom (I lock them up when we leave so they don't escape around Ron's exit, or entry).  I released them and they greeted us. 

All the cats are home.  The weather is miserably cold (for Houston, 30's F) and windy. 

I ate and took my meds, then took a nap.  I woke up with both Torbie and Gravy in bed with me.  One on each side.  Awww. 

Gravy gives me such cute little meows when I wake up. 

Sunday, February 22, 2015

What a day

It was  a day off.  Everyone's physically healthy.  No headache.  I went to Walmart.  It should have been a fun day, right?

I finally figured out a way to make the earplugs work.  They aren't forgettable, but I could get some rest in them.  Last night, the yapper next door was going crazy on the other side of my bedroom wall.  I removed the cord and inserted them.  Much better than the corded style.  Aqua Ears

The foam ones pop out and don't muffle; the silicone ones fall out and get stuck in my hair; but these actually stay put and are fairly comfortable.

I inserted them, reminding myself I could sleep in today if needed.  I heard the kids outside playing earlier (presumably with the dog) so hopefully they will tire it out today.  I dozed for a while, then removed the earplugs.  Silence.   I set them on my nightstand.

I slept pretty well.  Biscuit and Torbie are competing for bed rights.  They both want to sleep in the bed.  Biscuit would love to share, Torbie, not so much.  When Torbie left at one point, Biscuit and Gravy joined me.

I do love to sleep with a cat.

I woke up very depressed.  I took my shower and did my God Time.  I ate something and took my medication.  Something was "up" next door.

It's been my experience, with the men on either side of my home, if they're doing yardwork, they're having a party.  He was doing yardwork (I hadn't put it together yet).  I found his dog rather annoying.  They had it in the kennel, sitting in the driveway (what is it, no one understands "leash" on my block?)  It wanted to roam, couldn't, and decided to yap, yap, yap a lot instead.

I won't say much about #2's dog, for fear of upsetting Melanie.  I will say it appears to be well fed and they don't let it roam.

Already depressed, I found the yapping and the happy family talk (albeit in Spanish), even more depressing.  Then Ron started up with his usual morbid impatience for God to return.  He is extremely dark and negative in his thoughts and talk. He says he is upset with God; somehow that translates to using me as his emotional toilet. 

I have very limited results actually talking to him.  If I remind him I am already battling a severe depression he gets even worse.  

Desperate, I decided to go to Walmart.  I had asked him to make a trip yesterday, but he got drunk, or forgot.  I think, at the end of it, he didn't want to go.

I did.  I needed some more soda, etc.

I also wanted to look at the garden center.  I love gardening, and my focus on that lately has been one of the only things keeping me afloat.  It sure wouldn't hurt to get a new hose, would it?

We called a cab.  A nice man showed up about 10 minutes later.

I had as much fun as I could, at Walmart.  I ended up buying Ron, at his request, $25 worth of merchandise.  He always makes me calculate "his" tab so he can "pay me back".  I remind him he's paying the mortgage and all, he gets upset and insistent.

So I accept the money (I do make a lot less).

For myself, I went to the garden center.  I got a new hose, some batteries for the cat toy (Cat's Meow, everyone loves it), some seed starting material, my sodas, a couple t-shirts - they are making the women's with a pocket now, finally!  I spent about 45 minutes.

While it wasn't peaceful, I heard a lot of Spanish, I was aghast at what some women apparently wear to church - a lot of jiggly breast and thigh, screaming kids, still better than home.

Sad but true.

I paid.  I went to McDonald's and got some nuggets, and sandwiches for Ron.  I asked Ron to call a cab.

After an hour, a cab came in the parking lot, drove around, saw me, and LEFT.  It made me very self conscious. 

The company called me a while later.  Was I still waiting? 

I bit off the sarcastic reply and responded in the affirmative.  I told her about the cab, said I "Took a bath, with soap" and wondered why it was so hard to find a driver. 

I have taken other cabs to Walmart and home, never had these problems. 

Today.  I did. 

Now, years ago, Ron and I had The Worst Trip Ever.  I had a migraine.  I was in extreme pain.  Our ride was 2 hours late.  This one beat that by half an hour, and only then because I called a friend to pick me up. 

Happily, he wasn't busy. 

I did laugh hysterically when he asked if I minded waiting for half an hour.  I had already been waiting for 2. 

He got there 2.5 hours after I called. 

"Oh, that was the longest wait ever" I said. 

"What?" he replied, baffled. 

"Oh, not you, you're great.  Thank God you came!"  He relaxed and took me home.  I gave him the cab money and told him I was Never Doing That Again. 

I had to laugh when we got home.  Ron had locked the kittens in his room.  I reached for the door knob and our friend said "Maybe he's asleep, or busy". 

I opened the door anyway as he flinched and looked the other way.  Sure enough, Torbie and 2 kittens running around the room, Ron listening to TV on his headphones, fully dressed. 

I had to giggle after our friend fled. 

I don't often see Ron as "controlling", but he wants me to shower during certain hours in the summer; leave my bedroom door open at all times "because it has a better vent"; put a fan in my doorway, in the summer, to "blow cold air at the intake vent"; don't cook at all during the summer, etc. 

I do find it funny.  Like the internet joke, he pays all kinds of money during the winter, to keep the house at a temperature he'd deem "unacceptable" during the summer.  I think it's silly. 

I don't need it warm in the winter.  I like it warm in the summer; UNLESS I am trying to sleep.  Menopause Woman likes a little chill at bedtime.  He's railed bitterly about it. 

Anyway, while talking with our friend I did arrange to have a trip to the garden center.  I'll get some mulch and soil amendments, toss them in the truck, bring them home and put them in the backyard.  After he leaves I will spread most of the mulch on the beds. 

If you think it's hard riding the bus, you can imagine what it's like for me trying to transport a bag of cow manure! 

That way, the garden will keep me busy and occupied for minimal cost.  I also find myself eating a tremendous amount of fresh, homegrown, vegetables. 

If I buy veggies, they rot in the fridge. 

When I came home I saw cars everywhere.  As near as I can tell 3 of the latinos, including the neighbors on either side, are having parties tonight.  Why? 

No holidays of Mexican festivals as far as I can tell.  I didn't see any soccer on TV.  It's just [my street] latino party day.  At least they are fairly quiet.  I don't hear much with my music at a standard level. 

I do pray they wrap it up soon, because our first pickup is 3:43 AM.   If I want to do my God Time and take a shower (equally important), I have to get up at 1:30 to 1:45.  Which means I should already be in bed. 

I can take 2 approaches: stay up until 8 or so, when it will be fairly quiet (I hope), or go to bed and use my earplugs. 

I think I'll split the difference and go to bed around 7-7:30. 

What a day. 

Happily, I should be able to get a nap tomorrow. 

Saturday, February 21, 2015


I woke up with a splitting headache at 3 AM.  Ron was awake.  I talked to him for a while and fell back asleep.  I woke up a few hours later, still in agony.  I managed to get my shower and God Time. 

Apparently, I forgot my deodorant.  More later. 

I was pretty wound up an anxious from the OTC headache pills' caffeine.  Around 9 AM, I took some Aspirin. 

My stomach was not happy all day.  It's bad enough, I could hear the poor organ complaining, I have to deal with the junk food, and all those horribly toxic crazy pills, but now aspirin? 

Sorry.  The pharmacist said I should use aspirin as my primary painkiller. 

I am happy to report my face looks a lot better.  It appears I won't scar.  Good.  (The kittens galloped across my face last week during a nap). 

I caught up, a little on the laundry, and then Ron and I went to the Dollar Store.  I really wanted some C cell batteries for an automatic cat toy.  Of course they didn't have any. 

I did get some seeds, some fun stuff for Dad, snacks, batteries for Ron (alkaline for his wireless headphones), more batteries for my MP3 player (I much prefer a battery operated player, I had music for days after the hurricane when most players were dead.  I also had a very long trip to the ER back in 2009, and was able to listen to my music for nearly 24 hours. 

In short, I got plenty of stuff, just not the thing I came for.  Agh. 

We went home.  I still felt moderately crappy. I took off my jacket and realized I was a little ripe.  Hm.  I freshened up and changed.  

I decided to plant my Sunchoke tubers.  I'd ordered them last month. 

Since they grow wild in Canada, it's safe to plant them now, here in Houston!  I went out to Garden Bed 4.  It's got a lot of root competition from neighbor's trees, and slightly more shade.  It's probably the most challenging bed. 

However, my amendment program has worked.  I have lovely soft soil a couple inches deep, and then decent looking clay.  I planted them and mulched.  I will need to mulch the bed to cover the weeds (not many considering).  I will also need to explain "garden beds" to the yard guy so he doesn't "fix" it! 

I had plenty of fallen leaves and some shredded bark, so I used that for mulch.  I also used markers to denote the plants. 

These things grow wild in Houston.  They taste good.  I've eaten them (I bought some at the grocery store).  I have often ridden past a wild stand and wanted to forage. 

I finally decided, if they grow wild here, they will certainly grow well in my garden.  When I dug my garden beds (I basically have 1, 2 &3 merged, 4, 5, and 6), I used a stiff edging.  Nothing can grow into, or out of, the beds, especially if they're mulched. 

That said, I plan to allocate #4 for the 'chokes.  I can just dig some up, fall to spring, every year.  They will regrow.  I just need to mulch and apply some light fertilizer in the spring after the last frost date (I assume). 

I'm thinking about planting some yuca root in garden bed 5.  We'll see. 

I plan to put some pole beans around the 'chokes, I read that suggestion and it makes sense.  The beans like to climb, and contribute nitrogen.  The 'chokes provide support. 

I went out, it was nice, warm, a little muggy.  Lovely spring weather.  I had fun out there for maybe 20 minutes planting. 

I also checked on the remains of my poor fig tree.  It's gone.  I need to get something else in there (I built an above ground planter a few years back).  I'd like to add another course of cinderblocks and some more soil, then plant the chosen fruit tree. 

I don't think I want to do grapes, they are awfully messy and require a lot of tending - the muscadines do well in Houston but I need a lower energy garden.  I'm thinking citrus. 

I moved my faithful bay tree, still alive in it's pot years later, and added some compost.  At some point I need to repot it.  

I did a little garden cleanup and came in.  I washed my hands and said hi to the kittens. 

The kittens are doing great.  They were just in here raising hell. 

Torbie cat slept with me last night.  Apparently I am "her" property.  Aw.  She is pretty sweet.  I don't want her to be jealous, but I am flattered she thinks I'm worth fighting over.  Biscuit tried to join us around 3 and she smacked him - that's what woke me up, with the headache. 

Speaking of, it was pretty much gone.  I didn't realize my stomach was pretty cranky. 

For clarity's sake, when I refer to my stomach I mean the organ.  I don't mean "abdomen".  I hate it when people say they have "stomach" issues when they mean abdominal.  "I had really bad stomach pain and they took out my appendix"  AGH. 

Anyway, I have actual gastric distress now and then.  About 4 fries into dinner, I realized I should have gotten something else.  But what?  I couldn't eat the chicken salad.  I tried that ONCE.  I got so sick after taking my lithium, and that was when I was taking half what I do now!  No, I needed calories and protein, a lot. 

I gagged down my pills and watched Ron eat his hamburger.  I declined his offer to buy another burger for my breakfast.  I had to explain I was queasy, but I didn't know it until I began eating, but it wasn't the food. 

I didn't think of the painkillers until I started blogging now. 

We had another good talk.  Ron has mentioned, twice, on his own, he wants to order a book on addiction.  He even referenced it and his alcohol use in the same sentence. 

I, of course, am thrilled, but I played it low key.  I know my husband: if I push him, or make a big production out of progress, he will balk.  However, if I step back, pray, and turn him over to God, God will work on him.  I just need to be patient, and faithful in prayer. 

Looks like I was right!  God is working on him. 

I know a lot of people think, have thought, I am an idiot, a poor deluded fool who needs to lay down the law, set an ultimatum, and walk out. 

Ron already made it clear, in casual conversation, he would let me go if that happened.  I'm not afraid to lose him, outside of the usual "how will I make a living" issues, but I don't want to torpedo a marriage that can be saved. 

God's also told me I need to remain.  He's been telling me that for a very long time now. 

We had a very good date night, except for the nausea.  Ron was sympathetic. 

We even had good rides today, shockingly enough.  They were fine except for the nausea.  Since Ron is "on" a walker now, the paratransit company is hiring out some of our trips to cab drivers.  The cab drivers are great, very professional, and a guaranteed straight trip.  All the better. 

We don't have to tip them, but we do.  We want them to come back if they see us on the computer sometime in the future. 

The paratransit company issues a voucher, and the cab company takes it off their lease, or gives them cash. 

We did get a weather front today, and I have a couple days left 'till my cycle.  Even with the herbal supplements, I guess I was bound to get a headache. 

I just hope I don't have one tomorrow. 

Friday, February 20, 2015

No cojones para gatitos

I had a little competition in my bed last night. 

Oh, that sounds nasty. 

Biscuit wanted to sleep with Torbie.  That's all.  Torbie is not a fan of the kittens. 

Torbie won, for a while.  I woke up alone.  :( 

It's my fault.  I roll around too much.  I definitely don't want to roll over and squash a freshly-neutered kitten.  UGH! 

That would be The Worst Thing Ever. 

I woke up pretty depressed.  I managed to get my God Time and breakfast.  Then I watched Supernatural reruns for a couple hours while eating the remaining junk food in the house.  Not my finest moment, I thought. 

I haven't showered yet.  Not doing very well. 

I did get a little mixed (a dash of mania in all the depression), so I worked on organizing the front room, which looked like something out of "Hoarders".  It's better.  Baby Girl found a new rest spot and is enjoying it. 

I did get into the fridge and got the tacos para gatos.  I ordered them yesterday "Tacos para gatos".  They know because we have a history of ordering takeout for the cats.  She took the order in a very professional manner, as I explained "Just some cooked meat in foil, please, beef and chicken". 

I also told her "No cojones para gatitos!  Neccesito carne para gatitos!" 

[I'm neutring my kittens, I need some meat for them.]  The owner nodded sagely. 

I've picked up some Spanish living here.  It's nearly impossible to avoid.  And I want to know Spanish. 

So, they brought it out.  I have a theory the portion control goes out the window "Para gatos".  They seem to get more meat than the standard portion.  I won't complain. 

The kittens sure didn't.  They were howling, trying to steal each other's breakfast, and gobbling away.  Good.  I want to spoil them. 

I was also happy to note the pain meds come with extra vitamins, as a blood builder.  Good. 

They also have "different" incisions from the cheapo neuter clinics.  These have one over each testicle.  The clinics would cut at the top of the scrotum and get both out of the opening. 

Sorry if I just creeped you out.  I believe in researching everything before it's done, so I know what to expect.  Like my Dad and his heart trouble. 

The kittens alternated between cuddly and sleepy.  I took a nap, with Biscuit, for a while.  I was a little sad to wake up alone. 

Do I have a favorite?  No. 

I love Torbie because she picked me, she's "damaged goods", I saved her from certain death, and I can provide the safety and love she desires.  She got in my lap for God Time today, some it at least. 

I love Baby Girl because she picked Ron, she was dumped, and is safe and happy living with us.  She is not super cuddly with me but she does surprise on occasion.  One day I had a horrible depression, and she slept with me.  She also slept with me the night Bubba died, understanding my devastation.  In her own spotted way, she loves me too. 

I love he kittens because they're sweet, love each other passionately, and I saved them from certain death.  I can provide the safety and security they need.

Gravy has been wanting to go out.  I may get him a harness at first.  I have had to run out and catch him a few times.  He got out yesterday when I came home from checking the mail.  Naughty!

I could see his poor shaved nutsack, incisions and all, running away.  I couldn't help but think what the vet would say!

She did write some very nice things about them, in their discharge notes.  They love the boys, they're so cute and sweet.  They love all my cats.

One pastor said we talk about that which we love.  So I guess you can tell I love my cats.

Ron has been OK today.  Pretty busy doing his own thing.

I am sitting here in my housecoat, which is starting to fall apart.  Time to retire.

I'm debating getting a new "thing" to wear around the house when I don't want to wear "everything".  Something I can use to answer the door or throw on a jacket and check the mail, go out back and water the plants (we have a privacy fence).

Cons: not very fashionable and may encourage depression.
Pros: easy to wear, Ron doesn't care either.

I'm going to think about it.  It's hard to think at all with this depression, and I know the junk food didn't help (I ate 2 single-serve packages of sugar donuts and about 4 ounces of potato chips).

Oh, well, if nothing else I'll fix the cats some more "tacos".  

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Cat Mom - not a wheelchair

We had a busy day. 

Last night I put up the food and starved all the cats.  This morning, I put the boys in separate carriers.  Each carrier had one of their beloved slippers.  They like to knead and suckle on the soft, fluffy, fabric, and found them very comforting.  They "worked" on the slippers as we took them to the vet. 

We had a good ride to the vet, with a driver who actually liked cats.  Most of our drivers hate cats.  We got there before opening, of course. 

We only waited a little while before the technician came by to open.  Once he did he took the boys back.  When he returned, he praised them for being so "good and friendly". 

Sometimes, he told me, you have to put the carrier into the kennel and then open it, then yank your hand out before kitty "gets" you.  Our boys were cuddly and purred. 

They are lovers. 

The office administrator came, and we got everything settled.  Ron wanted to do microchips while they were already "out".  I thought that sounded great.  I have heard the injection is painful for the cat.  You might as well do it while they're unconscious.  I  also got some Laxatone because one of the girls has hairballs.  

I heard retching last night, but I don't know who.  It was an adult cat, though.  

Ron brought the walker.  Sad to say, he gets "better trips" when he "is a walker" and not "a wheelchair".  Wheelchairs are, like, the untouchables.  Sad.  You would think they would be a higher priority.  

Anyway, the paratransit company hired a standard cab to take us.  It was the same driver we had on Sunday.  We got a card, in case we need a ride, he does work our area.  We would pay him full fare of course, plus a tip.  He was interested. 

We got to work early and used every minute.  The repairman came.  I didn't feel so "stupid" after he told me I couldn't have fixed the problem on my own.  He had to work on it for a good 10 minutes with various specialty tools.  Happily, I'd already stocked it.  I just had to flip the switch.  

I did pastry, that was about all I needed.  Ron is giving me a couple days off because it is quiet.  

Pretty soon, time to go.  We went to lunch.  Ron got "the special".  Our pickup was going to be so awful Ron called a cab to take us home.  We agreed it was "worth it" to get home an hour earlier.  We were only about a mile and a half away anyway.  

We got a really nice guy (Ron and I had prayed and I specifically asked for a nice driver), who doesn't mind the small trips.  He was just delightful.  

We went home and I took a nap.  I heard some noise, and then the butthead who drives around in circles playing loud music. I did get some sleep, though.  

We woke up, called the vet.  The boys were fine.  Our friend came pretty soon after that and we liberated them.  

Everyone at the vet had fallen in love with the boys.  One tech threatened to keep Gravy.  They are very loving and sweet.  

During the last checkup, the vet kept praising us - the boys were in top condition - a nice change from their "rescue" state just a few weeks before.  And we're getting everything done in a timely manner.  

I want to be the best Cat Mom I can be.  

Ron had eaten himself sick on "the special" at lunch.  He went to bed when we got home, but called me a few times.  I took our friend out for a fried chicken dinner (I got chicken fried steak and biscuits).

The kittens ate, and are now raising hell, tearing up the house, playing.  The painkillers are clearly working.  

I'm to give them some pain meds twice a day for a few days.  I don't think they will need them for long.  

I'm a little worried they will over do it and tear something.  Gravy, of course, is banned from the shower enclosure for a week or so.  He loves to clamber into the shower when I bathe.  He doesn't get under the water, kind of on the edges, just getting damp but enjoying every second.  But, not for a while.  A wet incision would be Bad.  

Torbie is hiding in my room.  Smart girl.  

Baby Girl is watching them.  

So, Yay!  Tomorrow off.  Should be fun - even though we're predicted rain the next couple days.  Saturday looks to be thunderstorms. 

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Bad Kitty

I had a hard time sleeping after the drama, last night. 

I overslept, Ron woke me up (nicely).  "I guess your alarm didn't go off". 

No shower.  No God Time.  Today, I did feel my hair was unacceptable, especially since I got very sweaty loading the truck.  Ugh. 

Then, more stress at work because a coin mech had fouled.  We couldn't fix it on our own.  We have to get the repairman. 

"I don't mind giving him the money" I told Ron.  He's very honest, a good family man, and a hard worker.  He has great admiration and respect for Ron's work ethic. 

I did get to stock most of my (new) plentiful snack inventory.  I needed just about everything.  Candy, crackers, peanuts, cookies, and every chip you can imagine.  I did stock the "down" machine even though we turned it off, so I don't have to worry about stocking it once it's fixed. 

It took quite a while.  I helped Ron, rotated stock, put everything away (hell of a job, remember I have 34 square feet), and restocked the drink fridge with our older inventory. 

Something good, though.  I got scratched, on my face, by the kittens last week.  I have a longish scab on my upper lip, running from my nose to the lip. 

I don't want it to scar.  Yes, I am a little vain. 

I have been taking lots of antioxidants.  I also decided to get some glycerin and apply it to the scab.  The scab had been getting a little itchy and I know it's best to keep the area moist.  They put glycerin in everything. 

I am happy to report, one day later, it already looks better.  Doing a little research after the fact, it's been proven to help.  Glad I listened to my gut on that (I'm sure God put it in my head). 

I finally got it all done and we left.  We had a pretty good ride home with a good driver.  However, my nap was not meant to be.  The kittens caused an uproar, which caused Ron to wake me up.  Baby Girl sat on #6's garbage can, taunting the dog, which of course barked like crazy. 

Bad Kitty. 

I hope I sleep well tonight. 

We fix the kittens tomorrow.  I really hope we get good trips. 

I want rat killers

Living with Bubba (the beautiful black cat in my slide show), I learned to be alert whenever he came home.  He liked to hunt, everywhere, including down in the storm drain. 

He liked to bring home his prey, sometimes dead, sometimes alive, but always in his mouth, accompanied by a rather muffled, proud, meow, and a tail hanging down out of his mouth on one side.  His own tail would be high, his posture very proud and satisfied. 

He'd brought us a treat.  

He did teach Baby Girl to hunt rat, apparently, before he died, even though he was dying of heart failure. 

However, she never brought any home after he died.  But now, apparently, she has children to teach.  

That's right.  Last night I heard the pet door flap.  My chair faces away from the pet door.  I didn't think much of it until I heard a muffled meow.

I knew that.  Sure enough, I turned, and, to my horror, Baby Girl was toting a rat the size of one of the kittens.  I screamed at Ron to hide in his room.  He asked me why and I yelled "Rat!".  He began to stagger down the hall.  Baby Girl dropped the rat by the enthralled kittens and began playing with the stiff corpse. 

Oh no. 

Yes.  I got up and yelled at her to stop.  She picked up the rat and ran down the hall towards my bedroom, apparently chasing Ron, who was rather slow to flee.  He couldn't get the door shut around his walker and fumbled desperately as I shouted, she meowed, and all the cats converged on the fascinating trophy. 

It came to rest outside the laundry room.  Everyone wanted to eat it. 

If you need to know why I said no, it could have been poisoned.  I don't want my cat dying because it ate secondhand poison.  Much less all 4 cats. 

I chased the cats away (I had a hell of a time with the kittens, who were enthralled).   I looked at the very stiff, very large, corpse. 

I was out of practice, but this was bigger even than Bubba's usual "treat".  The body was at least 8-9 inches long.  The tail was nearly that long as well. 

I didn't want to put it in the dustpan.  It was too big and I might drop it. 

Thank God it was garbage night.  But what a horrible shock for a garbage picker! 

Wait a minute.  Had anyone pissed me off, lately?  Here's a great chance to get back at them!  [snorting with laughter]  Of course I didn't, but I did consider.  I only thought, for a second, about leaving it for someone to find. 

One of the kittens climbed into a plastic shopping bag and made it rustle.  Ah.  I'd put the rat in the dustpan, then into the shopping bag - and take it out to the trash can sitting at the curb. 

I did so.  However, I kept thinking the dead rat would reanimate and attack.  Of course it didn't, but I was sure glad to be rid of it. 

Baby Girl had no idea why I had taken her treat, or why I was so upset.  Poor BG. 

Poor Heather! 

That's really the only scenario (that and overflowing toilet) where I wish Ron could see.  The rest of the time I don't care. 

However, living with Ron, in Texas, with my cats, has made a real man out of me.  I suppose Baby Girl will continue the kittens' "education". 

And, I have to say, at the end of the day, I want rat killers. 

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Society likes you a lot better, medicated

If I ever left Ron, it wouldn't be for the drinking.  It wouldn't be for the verbal abuse (alone).  It wouldn't even be for the blackouts and threats of physical abuse.  It wouldn't be for "prior bad acts".  It wouldn't be due to his many disabilities.  It wouldn't be because someone talked me into it. 

If I ever left Ron, I'd leave him for his attitude.  Today he was just awful. 

Let's remember, Ron is not the only one with trials.  I have brain damage.  I have severe mental illness.  I don't really GET to decide how I'm going to feel.  I was massively depressed the week leading up to my wedding (some might say a harbinger of things to come). 

Anyway, I woke up exhausted (although the dog behaved and "let" me sleep), and depressed.  The kittens bounced into my bed, meowing and saying hello.  They are so loving.  I took my shower, with "help" (Gravy likes to sneak in the back of the shower).  I did nearly all of my God Time.  I ate some whipped cream cheese on a multi grain roll.  All this in spite of a hideous depression. 

All.  Day.  Long.  Ron was incredibly negative.  He kept cursing God, paratransit, and life in general.   My Dad used to have a saying, which I might start using on Ron:  "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." 

When I objected to this toxic sea, Ron began railing against me.  I was trying to control him.  He had a right to his feelings. 

It reminded me of when I tell Ron I am in pain, or depressed.  He always says "Is that all?"  It's not funny - it's a vicious attack, but he won't admit it.  Then, if he believes the complaint "deserves" it, he will shout at God and complain about his difficult life, etc. 

When he is drunk, he will often use the term "Broken POS".  I always want to tell him, Ron, no one anywhere near normal, or functional, would want you in her life.  No one takes his calls anymore.  No one. 

Here's a good example.  Ron had "planned" on an hour at Walmart, for "me" to shop.  I would have left him at the door anyway.  Ugh. 

Our ride was late and we had other pickups.  They had to readjust our pickup just to give me 45 minutes (they gave our pickup driver a lunch).  Ron was furious and ranting. 

Why dump on me?  I'm the one missing out on shopping time.  You say you're angry "on my behalf" but I'm not angry!  The world does not revolve around your desires, get over it!   I can shop in half an hour, so why are you upset? 

Instead, Ron ranted and raved all the way to Walmart, a good 20 minutes at least, with me, 2 other clients, and the driver.  It was awkward and embarrassing.  The other woman kept giving me sympathetic looks. 

I was happy to leave him by the door, but when I came back there was a homeless, manic, white guy with all his junk (large, old, luggage) in a shopping cart, gunning rapid-fire conversation at the hapless greeter.  I heard something about "Someone's paying the tax on it but we can't figure out who" and "The lawsuit".  Yeah, right.  She asked him if he was on medication and he got very upset. 

They always do, when they are bipolar and not medicated.  I think it's a combination of not wanting to admit mental illness, and not liking the side effects.  Well, guess what, society likes you a lot better medicated, and you don't have to beg by the side of the road, either. 

I couldn't wait to get Ron away from him.  The last thing I wanted was a confrontation between the two men.  Both were already pretty volatile. 

While I shopped, I got some diet decaf soda, some candy for the vet's office, and some glycerin to apply to the scratch on my face.  Biscuit kitten just came in to say hello.  He's a cutie.  They both are. 

Ron wanted cashews.  Later, he complained someone had opened the package.  He's said this a couple times over the years "My item was opened (the inner safety seal)".  I get stuff off the shelf all the time, and never find anything opened.  I don't know what to say.  I think he may start to open it, forget, and then come back. 

I don't know about you, but I would find it seriously annoying to unscrew and check every single item Ron wants.  I think I'll bring him with and "make" him check.  He'll get tired of it right quick.   I resent the implication that I "failed" shopping, and I won't receive that complaint.  

We went to work, that was a good ride.  We did inventory.  I need a lot of stuff.

Our ride from work was significantly late, but it was a really nice driver.   Ron had to ride in the back.  Down Greens Road.  He wasn't happy, especially when the client "forgot" to tell the driver where to turn and we went a mile out of the way. 

As we left the complex, I saw a drug deal at the corner.  It made me a little nostalgic for Bible Handouts.  Greens Road around Greenspoint is certainly a good spot for a Bible Handout. 

We finally got to the bank and did our business.  That ride was also very late, and Ron was in a bad mood when he found out he had to ride in the back, again.  He got confrontational with the driver.  I did my best to calm him down, then ignored him and went up front. 

He did his "Your rules are injuring me, you mean control freak" (said most of that, too)  "Go ahead and dominate the poor cripple, just because you can." 

The driver is really sweet.  But she can lose her job if she "lets" Ron out of the wheelchair.  Sometimes they are followed.  If she is caught breaking rules she can be fired on the spot.  I didn't fault her at all. 

In fact, she was incredibly professional.  I noticed she was playing Gospel.  Good, she was saved.  But I was also a little embarrassed because Ron's very vocal about God.  Yet he's acting like a buttwipe.  Not a good witness. 

She got in the drivers seat and I smiled at her, apologetically.  She smiled back and took us home.  Very professional, very nice.  She even sang a little with the music as Ron raved about it better be a straight trip. 


I don't know if it's his age, the drinking, or some kind of delayed head injury thing, but I am really disappointed in how he is treating service professionals, lately.  I always used to really admire his courtesy and consideration. 

Now I feel like, "Don't tell anyone about God if you're going to act this way".  He has no idea - he sounds like SUCH a hypocrite.  One minute he's yelling and demanding things "My way" the next he is warning them about the mark of the beast.  [head in hands]  Ugh. 

Anyway, I may tell him some of this: I really admire the way you are respectful to service people, etc.  Dale Carnagie always said "Give people a good reputation to live up to"  Maybe that would help. 

It can't go on like this.  He could lose his service. 

We got home, Ron immediately occupied the kitchen, getting alcohol.  I would like to tell him, please wait 10 minutes, but then that would go to a tirade in my direction about "trying to control and dominate" him.  It's really ironic, because HE is the one who does that. 

I need to take my medicine.  With food.  

I decided I would check out the backyard for a while and take out the trash.  #6 moved the trampoline from next to my bedroom, halfway down the fence.  I was curious to see if they had put anything by my bedroom, etc.  The dog yipped at Baby Girl but was otherwise quiet.  I stayed on my side of the fence and verified everything looked OK. 

I am worried they might bring back the soccer goal and have kids screaming and kicking balls into my bedroom wall at 8 PM all spring.   That's just not cool.  However, since I did the "mean neighbor" routine "No you can't bang on my door at 8 PM asking for your ball, or come in the yard - I will look every day and throw back any balls I find" they have moved the soccer goal, hopefully for good. 

I don't allow them in the yard because they run around and yell (while Ron is sleeping), leave the gate open, stand there by the gate and talk trash about us (I was sitting here in the computer room, 3 feet away, with the curtains closed), let toddlers run around in my yard unsupervised, and come over in huge packs of several children, running and screaming, late at night during their parties. 

I don't think anyone would consent to that.  Especially with liability issues.  "We had permission!" 

I think it's better to be the bitch neighbor with strong boundaries.  No, I don't want any of you in the yard.  Thank you. 

I couldn't believe he thought he could take our driveway last spring!  He was so mad I said no!   It's MY driveway! 

If anyone ever parked in the driveway, I would call someone to tow it.  Unless, of course, they had a fire or medical emergency and the paramedics needed parking. 

Anyway, by the time I finished with the yard (the soil looks good in my garden beds), and the trash (only needed to take out the regular trash, not the recycle), Ron had finally finished.  We were both tired and it had been a hard day.  I knew if I confronted him he would lash out and we'd fight. 

I do try to avoid confrontation, but I will stand up when necessary. 

Since I am a "Pleaser", people tend to assume they can do ANYTHING to me, and then find out they were wrong.  Boy, were they wrong. 

Ron, alcohol on board, was finally in a better mood.  He went off to the bedroom.  I ate (some sliced deli meat and cheese on one of the multigrain rolls), took my meds (I was having some hallucination issues, wavy lines over everything - not an eye problem but a brain one - don't ask how I know).   The wavy lines went away after the Haldol so clearly the right call. 

I took a nap.  Ron "let" me sleep for an hour and a half before he started yelling at the TV and making phone calls.  Agh. 

I heard some banging around #6 gate.  I got up and looked out the front window, and saw a latino guy bringing something out of the yard.  A running SUV "getaway" car idled at the foot of my driveway.  He got in the back, with his prize, and they left quickly. 

I found that very odd.  I put my shoes on to "check the mail".  #6 was home - he was at least.  I'm not going to worry about him being robbed. 

"Would you have stopped them?" Ron asked. 
"No, but I would have got their plates and called the police". 

The mail hadn't come.  Of course.  We had a 3 day weekend - that's 2 days of mail delivery. 

I can probably go check it now, though.  Here's to hoping I got something fun. 

Monday, February 16, 2015

"You can't imagine what it's like"

I had a pretty good night's sleep.  I woke up with a mild headache, instead of my usual "gripper".  I was, of course, depressed. 

I ended up skipping both my shower and my God Time.  Not the best morning, especially when the little yapper next door started barking furiously.  I was already up.  I just wish I could say to the family:  "What's the deal?  My cats have never woken you up." 

It would be great if dogs only disturbed their own household, when barking.  Never happen, just wishing. 

It could be worse.  It is a small yapper, not something large and vicious.  It doesn't bark much.  It likes me. 

So, in this frame of mind, I waited for our ride.  It was a half hour late.  Since the weather was very pleasant this morning, Ron waited outside in the driveway. 

The driver, according to Ron, pulled up and got out of the vehicle yelling at him because he had "blocked the driveway".  Ron always does that so the driver can park in the street and load him without pushing uphill.  He told her that. 

She got all huffy, took his brakes off, and rode him all the way to the corner.  Then she pushed him in the street, all the way back, making a huge production about the "difficulty" of pushing a 150 pound man in a wheelchair, when she could have pulled up 3 feet further when parking and taken him down our driveway. 

She was bound and determined to be a victim, and to "punish" Ron for existing.  She strapped him in the back of the cab, in the wheelchair compartment. 

Many times a driver will let Ron sit in the backseat, and then secure the wheelchair.  Not her.  Not today.   OK.  I get that. 

Now, I have joked with some of our nicer drivers: "If you ever want to punish Ron, strap him down in the back, and ride him down Greens road playing loud rap music."  That's exactly what she proceeded to do. 

She could have taken the Beltway feeder, our destination crossed the Beltway.  It would have been faster.  It would have been far less abusive for an accident victim with a very bad back.  Did she care, of course not! 

In fact, when Ron asked her to turn down the rap (he was sitting between two speakers), she turned it UP.   She made no effort to avoid bumps, ruts, and Houston's infamous potholes, all riddling the street.  She drove very fast, too.  Ron's wheelchair was literally airborne at times. 

Ron asked for her driver number.  He said he would be calling in "A compliment".  Meaning, of course, a complaint. 

We got to the second pickup location.  Suddenly, she turns off the radio, gets out, and makes an agitated phone call to her boss (realizing that Ron will most likely complain, and 3 complaints will get a driver terminated).

Ron later decided "She will fire herself".  Still, it's on the record she upset a client so much he wanted to call in a complaint. 

The driver loads client #2.  I think she was a therapist or at least trained in counseling.  The driver immediately started with "I had such a terrible weekend thinking about my poor dead son."

"When did he die?" the client asked.

"Well, the anniversary was January X.  You can't imagine what it's like to lose a child."

So, he's been dead for over a year.  At least.  Then I have to listen to this long self pitying "Oh, I don't have any friends" (not surprising with that attitude!), "I want a guy, but I don't want to date because they're all after my money."  If she had ANY money she would not be driving for paratransit, 12 hours a day.  It's horrible work.

I have suffered a lot of tragedy.  So has Ron, and we have NEVER, EVER, used it as an excuse (it was apparent she was trying to make us feel sorry for her so he wouldn't complain) to crap on people, or to get out of trouble.

I wake up horribly depressed nearly every day of the year.  And you know what?  No one knows about it.  I, too, had "A Terrible Valentines' day" with my passed-out, crippled, alcoholic husband snoring at 4 PM.  I told you, because y'all sign up for my crazy drama, but anyone has a chance to opt out of reading my posts.  I don't monologue hostages. 

I have severe headaches almost every day of the year.  I am a caregiver for a verbally abusive alcoholic.  I had an abusive, neglectful, childhood.  I suffer from horrendous mental illness.  Guess what?  I don't crap on anyone and use this as an excuse.  My problems are my problems.  You are not to blame for my problems. Very few people in my everyday life even know I am sick. 

We were hostages listening to the "Poor pitiful me" monologue all the way to work, including an account of her failed marriage.

She did "Mess up" though.  JFK is notorious bumpy.  She could have given Ron a tortuous ride, but she forgot and went down Imperial Valley (much smoother) instead.  I had to snicker at that (inside my head) when she realized what she'd done.  She even said "Oh, I meant to take JFK." 

Of course you did.  [rolleyes] 

When she unstrapped Ron, she pushed him away from the building.  Yeah, that's a good idea.  We'll go to work and sit around in the parking lot.  I tried to take the wheelchair from her, thanked her, and told her "I have it" when she refused to surrender the chair.  I then moved it so she had to give it up. 

I don't know what game she was playing today.  I hope to God we never see her again. 

If she is really that troubled, she needs counseling.  No matter what's going on in your personal life, you need to keep it separate from work.  Many of your clients have a harder life than you do.  You can walk, see, hear, and drive.  You are not mentally ill or brain damaged.  Appreciate that, value that, and don't inflict your dramas on the clients.  It's immature and unprofessional.  Had I called in on her, I would have suggested mandatory counseling.  If she needs to "get it out" go do it in a safe place.  All of us have trials, but I don't dump mine on you.

I'm not unsympathetic.  She was clearly unreached and did not believe her son's spirit was "alive" in any sense.  She probably has the "You die, you rot" mentality.  So to her, he's "gone forever".  Not quite.  His spirit is alive, and, assuming he was a believer, he is waiting to see her again.  She wouldn't receive that, though, when Ron tried to explain during the unloading process.  

We got into work, stocked, got our delivery.  Things are still pretty slow.  We got out on time and had a completely lovely driver.  She was light years from our first driver, just delightful.

We came home.  I figured, after this morning, I had better take my medication early.  I ate, did that, and took a nap.

I did have an excellent nap.  Yes, I woke up with yet another headache, but that's pretty standard after pill time (nearly everything I take causes headaches).  Some aspirin took care of that.

Since the cold front arrived, I used my heated mattress pad.  It's positively indulgent.

The cats are all doing well.  I think the kittens have *almost* figured out the cat door.  I just hope they can wait a week, until they're healed up from the neutering.  

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Unless you're the fish

Other than church it wasn't too bad today. 

I got a pretty good night's sleep, until the neighbors come home.  Their car door and front door slamming always wakes me up. 

They all went out for Valentine's day.  When they got home, the dog went nuts barking for attention.  It went on for several minutes, and I heard the man go out and yell at the dog to "shut up". 

I think it's safe to say the barking annoys them even more than it does me. 

This morning, when we came home from church, I noticed their gate was open.  The dog must not be in the yard. 

I don't believe they take it into the house.  They left it crying outside all night in 30 degree temperatures last month. 

If the gate's open, the dog is gone.  For good?  I don't know.  I do know the man seemed to be pretty sick of it. 

Really, a new pet is another child.  It requires a time and energy investment.  Ron shares with me, playing with them, feeding them, water bowl, etc.  I do litter.  :p 

Anyway, when they're gone, I will go look.  There's no discreet way to go outside and see if the gate is still open.  I don't want people nosing around my yard, so I will return the favor (even though I could tell by standing on my own property).  I will be able to tell "leaving for work" tomorrow, assuming I don't hear any yapping tonight. 

I also had a nice, quiet nap, pretty much.  I had the people riding around playing loud music for a while, they just loop around the subdivision for 30 minutes or so.  I don't get that.  Why torment hundreds of your neighbors? 

And #6 came home from an outing, like I said the noise always wakes me up.  God forbid a Bad Thing happens, I will hear it and be able to call the police.  One night, several years ago, some guy was banging on the door at midnight, yelling in Spanish.  They had an intense discussion right by my bedroom wall.  I assume it was some kind of marital drama. 

I don't speak spanish.  Lucky for them!  I would have heard all the "juicy" details.  [rolleyes]  It never happened again, thank God. 

Overall they ARE pretty quiet.  I think that's why I do get so upset when they "go off the chain" and have a wild party. 

Everyone else around me is very quiet, pretty much 100% of the time.  The only one who might be a problem has a landlady.  I have her number and she has asked me to call. 

Yeah, I'm THAT neighbor.  Not sorry either.  Ron paid for this house in his own blood. 

So, I'm watching one of those survival shows, set in Alaska.  I need to watch this stuff instead of the crime dramas.  It's much more uplifting (unless you are the elk, or fish). 

Total waste of time

Not happy with our trip to church. 

1.  The ride was nearly an hour late. 
2.  The driver "Didn't like the Beltway" and took the slow route. 
3.  We arrived an hour late, during the sermon. 

That's pretty typical.  It is a little embarrassing, but no more. 

The sermon's what bothered me.  It was a lay person preaching.  I could tell he had read The Harbinger because he kept referencing "warnings from God to our nation, like warnings Israel had before her destruction". 

Assume I'm biting.  By now I had the bone deep discomfort I associate with Bad Teachings and cults.  Assume I am still "riding". 

He then said we should "Not be political".  Um, excuse me.  If I have a chance to vote for the "better" guy, I'll do so.  I will also encourage other believers to vote for "Mr Better".  I will "Like" relevant and appropriate political comments on Facebook. 

He talked a whole lot about the tribulation, which current believers will not experience.  First the rapture, then the tribulation "We are not appointed for wrath".  You can still get saved after the rapture, by the way, not that he said anything.  

What should we do then?  We should pray! 

That's it.  Nothing about repentance.  Nothing about evangelism!  We are called, commanded by God to go preach the Gospel to a dying age.  Hell is coming, fast.  I want to help pull people out. 

Church ended and we left.  We hardly had time to say hello to anyone before our return ride arrived.  Probably a good thing.  I was NOT happy. 

So what did I do on the way home?  Shared the Gospel with our driver (as I'd done on the journey to). 

Other than the evangelism, a TOTAL waste of time. 

Saturday, February 14, 2015

That's what I like to do

Ron's alarm went off at 1 AM. 

I woke up with a headache. 

After work, while attempting a nap, a maniacal kitten ran across my face, claws extended, leaving a couple of scratches and a whole lot of bleeding. 

I'm glad I don't know who did it - they were both parties, though, 'cause one was chasing the other.  When I sat up and yelled "Hey!", blood dripping everywhere, they stopped and laid down in the bed, so winsome and cute. 

My (formerly stalking) sister got out of the hospital (finally, per my niece).  I am sure I am "expected" to "Do something".  However, she made it pretty clear her ideal was me leaving Ron and moving in to be her unpaid caregiver.  No thanks. 

A big muslim center burned down in Houston - arson.  They are crying victim and hate crime.  However, muslims burn down and destroy thousands of churches every year.  How do we know they didn't do this themselves to be "victims"?  Americans always rally to the underdog and people are seeing the truth about islam - it is a religion of hate and domination.  This is all fact.  How better to turn it around than to become "victims of a hate crime"?  That's assuming the population is dumb enough to forget all the islamic atrocities occurring daily - and guess what?  They are.  They think I am the worst kind of hater for saying, islam is a religion that says destroy any bastions of another's faith - ie - churches and places of worship (all faiths, not just Christian).  It is not uncommon for Christians to be driven out of their homes in the middle of the night, in muslim countries.  Not only that, they have a policy of brutal revenge for any "offense" - in fact they are commanded to avenge themselves, brutally, in their "holy book". 

My holy book tells me to love my enemies, pray for my persecutors, do good to them.  You won't find that in the koran, anywhere. 

Let's talk about Female Genital Mutilation.  Yeah.  While it is publicly condemned, in reality no intact young woman will be able to make a "good" marriage - so it's done on a regular basis with tacit approval from the "holy leaders". 

Let's talk about child molestation - children being "married" at 7 years old and raped when "they can bear the weight of a man".  But what can you expect?  Their "great one" married a 7 year old girl, molested her every night in the bath, and then began raping her when she turned 10 (approximately).  Sadly, she was one of his "favorite wives" - he had several.  Her name was Aisha. 

The men are encouraged to beat their wives, dominate them, and oppress them.  [In the Bible, men are commanded to love their wives as Christ loved the Church, even to the point of dying for them.]  Girls have been shot in the head for "daring" to go to school.  I don't see how any woman, or anyone who loves women, can countenance that. 

I hate to see political spin cycles actually working.  This "faith" is DISGUSTING AND EVIL, yet is being twisted to be a warm little teddy bear with some funny outfits.  It makes me furious.  I want to vomit, I want to scream, and I wonder, yet again, why God even BOTHERS with humanity. 

Don't get me wrong: they have a perfect right, under the first amendment, to practice their faith.  I support that.  I just get so angry when I see the spin cycles working - that something as dangerous as islam is turned into a sad little victim. 

No doubt I will be flamed for this.  Ron has told me, one day they'll "get" me.  I don't care.  Bring it.  Until then I will continue to practice MY faith as I see fit, doing Bible handouts, sharing my faith, and praying  for those enslaved to (sometimes literally) islam, daily. 

Before you go click "comment" be aware I have comment moderation.  Your post will not show unless and until I approve it.  If it meets my standards, I will allow it to post.  So you can forget your attacks, apologetics, links, videos, etc.  You are just wasting your time and I will click DELETE.   Oh, and don't forget I'm praying for you daily. 

In fact, here are some links: 
The Amazing Life of Jesus Christ
How to Know God -specifically for muslims

OK.  I feel better. 

This morning was pretty rough, the headache and all.  At least the dog didn't keep me up. 

My gums have been bleeding, not to mention my face after The Kitten Incident.  I can taste blood in my mouth right now.  I am drinking something with Vitamin C added.  I hope that will help with all issues. 

I hope I don't get infected, and I'm vain enough to hope I don't scar.  I have a pretty good line on my upper lip.  The lower lip injury went sideways.  I think it also got part of my tongue.  Ugh. 

Anyway, I got up, depressed, headache.  No God Time, no shower even.  It was that bad.  Not necessarily because it's "Love Day", but just chemicals in my brain.

We went to work.  Things were pretty slow.  Some guy yelled at me because I don't carry "the banana bread".

1.  Bread type items, specifically muffins and poundcake, have a short date and are not very popular.
2.  The other vendor is buying them at about 70 cents and selling them at a dollar, sales tax included.  You can see that is a problem.  They can lose money on the product if they'd like, but I will stick to more popular items with a better food cost.  I have seen them throwing that exact product away. 

I didn't tell the guy the food cost, but I told him the rest.  I also mentioned that "Maybe the other vendor can afford to sell it at a loss, but I can't."

Later on, battling side effects, I mentioned my illness to a customer.  We have some things in common and compared medication.  I've always told Ron, if 5 out of 100 people are mentally ill,  and we're going to have 2000 people at the plant, that means 100 "crazy" people walking around.  One reason I am open about my problems - just in case someone needs a shoulder to cry on.

God knows I could have used someone after my diagnosis.  All I had was my poor, dead, alcoholic, addicted, mother.  She of the 7 husbands and MANY boyfriends beside.  She who died virtually homeless in a no-tell motel on the freeway, with a 2 liter bottle of vodka at her side.

I was horrified that was my "destiny".  I needed to meet someone with my illness, someone who had overcome and had a pretty good life in spite of it all.  Someone who could find humor in her situation, without minimizing it.  I never found that person, but I can be her.  [tips hat]

One lady did come to me, and asked me about "psychotic features".  "Her friend" was having a lot of paranoia.  I told her, no big deal, have "your friend" tell the doctor about it, and he'll give her another medication.  It is a small tablet and no big deal as regards side effects (bigger boobs!).  She thanked me, gave me a hug, and left. 

Was it her?  I'll never know and I don't care.  I was able to help. 

That's what I like to do.  

We got home after work, and I decided to take a nap.  Ron was going to the liquor store.  Our vet likes a glass of wine now and then so I asked Ron to get her a small gift card.  He asked if I'd like to come, "because they are really busy today".  I told him no. 

I couldn't leave the kittens loose, to escape when Ron left and returned.  He is pretty slow getting in and out of the house.  Since I was taking a nap, I decided to lock them in the bedroom with me.  After all, they are quiet at night, sleeping with me on occasion (Biscuit did last night, for some hours). 

They ran wild, tearing the place up, chasing each other up, over, and across the bed.  I didn't have a problem with that until they ran across my face. 

After maiming me, they were quiet.  My face throbbed, blood everywhere, I gave up on the nap. 

Ron came home, drank, and went to sleep.  [sigh] 

I'm listening to music on headphones. 

Friday, February 13, 2015

Sad, bitter, and cheated

I'm pretty angry.

It would come out anyway so I might as well say it up front.

Why?  Well, #1, Dad's having "a procedure" done on his heart.  From my understanding it is something done with a cardiologist and an interventional radiologist, basically going through his veins to his heart and working with little robot things to make things better.

Great.  Praise God we have that technology.

I don't have any gripes about that; but it's understandably stressful.  Ron has been a complete jackass.

I told him several times today and he either 1.  Gave me the "We're all better off dead anyway" speech - he doesn't say it that clearly but it's the gist.  He even gave that one to his mother, years ago.  The rest of the time he was just oblivious.

I'm not often hit with the fact he's an alcoholic.  Yeah, he drinks every day, then passes out.  He would freak if he had to go sober for a while.  He has abusive blackouts.  Getting alcohol is very important to him.  He is even nagging me to "help" him "find a bar".  I told him, truthfully, all the ones around here cater to the Spanish population.  [If this comes up again I will tell him hell no I am not helping him find a bar, or downloading any drinking songs]

I have to think, though, only an alcoholic would be oblivious to my turmoil.  I just feel really cheated.

I mean, he may not be physically able to do a lot, but he can, should, offer emotional support.  This is my DAD.  Dad raised me singlehandedly for years.   Do you have a good relationship with your Mom?  Love her because she was always there for you?  That's how I feel about my Dad.

He's all I had during my formative years.

So.  Big Deal.  Ron was totally obvious.  You know, I could have called any man and he would have given me everything I wanted from Ron.  I'm sure the devil has a whole list.

But that's not who I am.  I am not a cheater, "even" emotionally.

I think that is the biggest misunderstanding about me.  People think I stay in my situation because I am weak or timid.  I am not.  I am committed to keeping my promises.

At the end of the day, I want to be the kind of person I can live with.  I want to please God.  Read that again.  I want to please God.  Not myself.

God has let me know (for now at least), I need to keep my commitment to Ron.

I just feel sad, bitter, and cheated.  I'm not going to cork it, but I don't think it will do any good to bring this up with Ron.

He'll just say my "tone of voice injured him, and I'm a victim" and have one of his histrionic episodes.  That, unfortunately, predates the head injury.  Part of his personality disorder, whatever it is.

I hate this wireless keyboard.  I want a regular one.

Anyway, it's been a rough couple days anyway.  Yesterday we went to work, went home and then took the kittens to the vet.  So far we're alright.  We got there early, the boys behaved, but our pickup came an hour late, as they were closing.

Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to wait around an establishment, after you're "done", because I can't drive?  They kept asking questions about paratransit, and saying "Oh, that's awful".  Yeah, it is.  I felt bad for the cats but they fell asleep in the carriers.

We got home, I gave them some cat milk, and went to bed.

I met the dog yesterday - #6 was doing yardwork and left the gate open.  I heard him doing yardwork a while back, and repeatedly yelling at the dog to "come here!".  I saw a lot of that yesterday.  He seems fairly annoyed with the dog's lack of obedience.

The dog isn't going to obey commands because you feed it.  You have to train it, interact with it, have it in your home.  The dog has to "own" both you and your property before it will bond.  (I read some dog magazines at the vet).  I see minimal interaction with the dog.

Anyway, he was pretty pizzed at the dog, who ran up to me.  Animals can tell animal people.  I baby talked her (he called it "Luna"), and let her smell my hand.  She's a nice, small, dog, about the size of my kittens.  I doubt she will get very large when full grown.  He kept yelling at her.

Hm.  I don't see this lasting.  Especially since the dog had a barking fit around 11, well after everyone had gone to bed.  I don't think he thought about that at all "Squirrel!  Squirrel!  Squirrel!"  "Possum!"  "Possum!"  That's what dogs do - alert.  And they will alert you to every single critter near your property.

I have seen numberless squirrels, some raccoons, various strange cats, and a possum, just on my subdivision lot,  just while looking out the window.  You can imagine what comes by when I'm not looking.

At least it's not vicious, or huge.  I'm not scared to have that next door (behind me is a huge pit bull-hound mix, you can bet I always check to make sure the fence is OK).  Earplugs do keep out most of the racket, not that I need them most nights.

Mainly, though, I just feel sorry for the dog.  I also wonder what was he thinking? when he brought the dog home. 

We had today off (sales are very slow).  I had one goal: go to Walmart.  Due to various severe headaches, I have not been able to take my antidepressant for the last couple days.  Why?  Well, if I take it during a nasty headache, I will vomit said antidepressant and trip the headache into a migraine.

I am eating a lot of over the counter headache pills lately.

Anyway, I was a little cranky, upset about my Dad, etc.  Our ride was over half an hour late and complained about "how awful" it was to work weekends.  We do; but I didn't say that.  When someone wants to be a victim they don't want honesty.

I finally got there.  I went after food first, "Stuff I can eat when depressed"
Ron - "Are you depressed again?"
"Rather, still."
He went off on a tirade about "God's cruelty" etc.  How does that make me feel better?  I have told him, don't dump a lot of negative energy on me when I'm already depressed.  It HARMS me.


I am currently cranking "Slave to You" by Pro on my headphones at a very loud volume.

It's an oldie but goodie.

So, it was a rather tense trip to Walmart, with Ron lapsing into hysteria "Your tone is harming me!  You are wounding me with your stress!" 

I finally told him to stop playing his music aloud.  I am sick to death of the hits of the 70's, old soul, and country drinking songs.   Let's just say it didn't help.

Not to mention we had a whole nursing home trucked in, wandering around absently, blocking aisles, and I had 20 minutes to shop.  If I had a dollar for everytime I had to back up and go around, I could have bought everything. 

[small scream]  They were even out of cat milk.  My boys, and Baby Girl, love Cat Milk.  How can you run out? 

I did get some cottage cheese, Biscuit loves that, and yogurt (since it has additives I'm not sharing).  I also got some more multi grain rolls.  They are good for a quick meal - throw some meat and cheese, eat.  I got some cream cheese spread - that on the roll can be breakfast (because antidepressants like a good meal).  It's all I could generate at short notice. 

I also threw a little money at my online account, but they had a really long line. 

I came home, ate, took my meds, and went to bed.  I slept a couple hours, woke up, Ron was drunk. 

I have a paradox when he's awake.  If I tell him I am doing my "God Time" (private worship, prayer, and Bible study), he will pitch a fit and interrupt.  If I don't tell him, he will interrupt. 

Generally I get around by getting up an hour early for this, but I haven't as much lately due to the [censored] headaches and various sleep-depriving dramas.  It is far, far, easier, to "lose" an hour of sleep to do my God Time, which is, to me, more important than Pill Time. 

I watched various crime dramas until he passed out, then I did my God Time.  Is it bad?  It's sad, that's for sure.  I do pray for all those battling addiction and those around them, daily. 

Ironic, waiting for my alcoholic husband to pass out so I can pray for him. 

If you pray, please pray for my Dad.  His Mom had the same problem.  I assume I will eventually. 

Scattered Shower

I didn't sleep well.  I was happy, though, when I kicked my foot out, only to end up in fur.  Torbie had joined me in the bed for a cudd...