$3 hooker

Still depressed.  I spent the first half hour of my day hitting the snooze button and apologizing to God.  I did do my God Time before I got online. 

I got up, showered, and dressed.  Ron woke up, very groggy.  "I don't want to go". 

I didn't bother to tell him I'd already had my caffeinated soda, so I wasn't going back to sleep.  I just told him we had to do the inventory. 

We had a pretty good ride to Walmart, we went around ferrying other people for a while, then finally to Walmart.  He had, however, gone crazy spraying "Black Ice" air freshener all over the cab.  Have you seen those car freshener trees?  The black one?  That fragrance. 

It was so overpowering it got on my clothes, I had to undress and launder them when I got home.  I don't fault the driver, though. 

He was pretty clear that some of his clients, especially the slower ones in diapers, are not cared for properly.  They reek of old feces, urine, body odor, and "Something else - rank - I can't describe".  I would rather smell Black Ice, and boy did I smell it.  

"I smell like a $3 hooker" I griped, after he dropped us at Walmart. 

"No you don't" Ron replied gently, sniffing my hair.  "You smell like a $2 one!"  I laughed so hard I brayed, then set him up in the kiddie cart. 

We got our supplies, some drinks for work.  We didn't want to buy them, take them home, and then go to work.  We wanted to just take it straight.  We did that, we even had a straight ride. 

All our drivers were great, today. 

We got into work, just a short trip.  I did the inventory, stocked some candy, helped Ron (always).  The other vendor wrinkled his nose when I walked in our small stockroom (about 200 square feet, shared).   Poor man. 

We did everything we had planned, then came home. 

I can't talk about something, but it involved lunch.  Yay for a ready made lunch, something I can take my pills with and not get sick.  Harder than you'd think. 

The minute I got home I stripped and washed my clothes.  Whew.  The pants were particularly bad. 

I was so glad I had subjugated this morning's headache before I rode in his cab for an hour. 

I took a nap for a while.  Ron went to the liquor store and made some noise, but I didn't have a nightmare, either. 

He got brandy, this time.  Vodka being the victimizer, and not all alcohol.  [sigh]  "I don't want you to make another video" he told me earnestly "So I'm going to be very careful!"  I plan to, if needed, make an audio recording.  He can't see it anyway.  I put "Voice Recorder" in my shortcuts list on my phone, the minute he told me he was drinking the hard stuff again.  I didn't tell him. 

"Hope for the best, expect the worst". 

It's interesting.  When I was unmedicated, just after my diagnosis, I remember feeling embarrassed the cats had to see me like that.  I didn't want them to ever suffer discomfort or unease on account of my behavior.  That's one reason I never drink. 

That, the huge risk of addiction, and the tremendous vulnerability when a woman is drunk.  Someone Ron knew proudly related a tale of gang raping a passed out, drunken, woman.  I was horrified, even more so because, years later, he still saw it as an acceptable thing to do. 

Anyway, I don't want to embarrass myself in front of the cats.  I value their opinion. 

Yes, I took my antipsychotic today.  No, they aren't telling me to commit crimes.  I just want to be the best human I can be, for them, because they deserve all that and so much more. 

I found Biscuit in my bed (most of my house has pretty poor lighting, due to the whole Ron-blind thing and my innate cheapness). 

Look at that sweet, white, tummy.  He let me rub it for a while, too, as he purred and gazed at me with adoring green eyes. 

Such a sweet boy.  It amazes me that anyone could throw him out like trash, much less kick him in the head!