Horribly depressed and broke my complaining rule

I had asked our supervisor for some backup: he had made it clear he would not allow us to be forced into providing thousands of dollars more in microwaves, in addition to the ones we already have.  "Just have them call me" he said.  I thought, by his tone, he meant he would shut them down.  Stop the shouting, bullying, threats, etc.  Explain we do not have bottomless pockets and a warehouse full of microwaves. 

No, instead,  "I told him to talk to you about doing more cheap ones if you want to".  Great.  Thank you for making my stalking/harassment a thousand times worse!  I am sick of people shouting at me because they broke our microwaves. 

[self-edit] When I say they never buy a thing, I'm not kidding.  But they sure know who we are when they break one. 

I'm frustrated.  They don't understand our income.  They don't understand we, combined, make about half the salary of one of the new, temporary, workers.  They don't understand the other vendor has multiple income streams, and can afford to throw an endless stream of microwaves at the population.  Even if I tried to tell them, they are so self-focused and angry they wouldn't hear it. 

My only counter, wear headphones to work, and refer all the complainers to Ron.  Ron, of course has a volatile temper so that should be interesting.  However, they generally don't shout at him the way they do me.  We're both disabled, but he looks it, so their internal governance won't "let" them treat him the way they do me. 

I find that really frustrating.  Verbal abuse on top of existing depression is even more horrific.  Ugh. 

So, that was pretty much the worst part of my day. 

I did sleep OK.  I woke up OK, a pretty decent mood, talked to Ron for a while, going to do God Time later. 

I did not have any cats in the bed.  That, to me, was the big tragedy of the day. 

I had a horrible cyst on one of my incision scars from my laproscopic ovarian surgery (they both had to get "done" but the doctor was a fertility specialist and quite opinionated about "saving my fertility").  At the time, I had a dermoid cyst on one ovary, and a "bleeder" on the other.  He got the bleeder off. 

I healed up fine and never had a problem until recently.  I got a cyst, in the incision.  As you know, I get a lot of cysts.  I have 4 at present, all hidden.  They always hide.  Hurt like heck, though. 

So, this one: not only painful, but messy.  It would break open, stop, break open again.  I have been very careful cleaning it.  Last night I finally got it all done - it already looks a lot better today.  Now to get the other 3. 

No, I am not interested in a long-term course of antibiotics.  That would wreak hell on my immune system. 

Not to mention, more pills?  Nausea?  Other digestive issues? 

No thanks.  I bathe daily, wear clean clothes, and take supplements I feel will support my agenda. 

We only had one real trip, a ride to Walmart.  We did that.  I made my deposit and other sundry things.  When we came home, the neighbor's dog was in the driveway. 

"Your dog got out" the driver told me.  I don't have a dog.  I don't like dogs, and God knows I don't want them.  The dog ran around in our yard like a little idiot, trying to get close to Ron, and his takeout chicken.  I ran her off until Ron got into the house. 

Ron, of course began whining.  He wanted to go sit out on the porch with the dog in his lap.  I reminded him that went very badly with the Barkappotamous.  He was nicer to her than her own family, and she was constantly barking for attention.  Ron thought she was "just lonely" so he would go out and give it to her, exacerbating the issue.  Then the dog kept digging out and coming over, wanting to be our dog... you get the idea. 

The killer, for me, was when some dog hugger showed up with the Barkappotamous in her car.  The dog got out and came over to our porch, looking for Ron  Then the stranger reads me the riot act about confining my dog!  I told her, I don't like dogs!  It's stalking us! 

I pointed at the real owner, who had slunk down in her seat (she had just pulled up in her car).  The woman went over and yelled at her for a while, but we continued to have issues of the dog barking constantly, tearing up the fence, etc.  Ron ended up going over there, every night, totally drunk, shouting at them to make her shut up, when he wasn't sticking his hand through the fence trying to "calm her down".    The dog was completely baffled by the mixed messages and it just made the behavior worse. 

It was an overall FUBAR.  I am not going to let that happen again.  It starts with a neglected dog.  Ron wants to make it feel better so he gives it the attention it's not getting at home.  Then the dog wants to live with us and is always acting up, trying to get attention. 

I have mentioned the barking issue.  Ron has said he can't hear it, maybe we can switch rooms.  I won't do that, because 1.  His room won't fit a queen bed and 2.  He'll hear the barking, go out the "bark" door, and end up encouraging bad behavior by rewarding the barking.  He doesn't think.  He just thinks "Doggie!" and gets carried away. 

I think that goes to the head injury.  Anyway, I literally set my chair between Ron and the front door so he couldn't go out and "comfort" her.  The dog was fine, running around, raising hell.  I hope she is fixed because I heard other dogs. 

Ron kept whining how he "just wanted to pet her" but, like I said, I know how this ends.  The dog got out once.  She is a small dog and I can see a dozen ways for her to get out just around the gate - she's getting out again.  I don't want her to see us as "hers". 

I do feel a little sorry in an abstract way, but that is outweighed by a fierce desire to protect my home from more drama.  The last thing we need is another pet. 

I've told Ron, if you love dogs this much (and if so, why didn't you get one when we bought the house?), we can go to the shelter, volunteer, and you can socialize the dogs.  I'd clean litter boxes.  He said "No, it's not the same".  

The girl cats did a good job chasing her off.  The idiot boys wanted to play with her.  After Ron fell asleep/passed out, I took a nap. 

I heard some more barking and banging noises, so I knew the neighbors had some home and put her up.  I continued my nap with Biscuit, who slept on a leg. 

I never stopped to think, but my queen sized dark gray polyester blanket is the same color as his spots.  It was a little chilly so I got it.  Apparently I shouldn't go putting up my winter stuff just yet. 

I am thrilled I got the bedding washed.  It's been a while and I thought that might have something to do with the cysts (looked and smelled fine, though).  I don't have a lot of bedding but I have a spare fitted sheet.  I "loaded" that, and some pillowcases, arranged everything in a pleasant configuration. 

I do love my bed.  I love it even more when a cat joins me. 

I woke up with a nasty headache, which is still around.  Just not my day. 

I plan to maybe do up some Bibles for a Handout, later.