His shame, not mine.

Ron took Benadryl with alcohol tonight.  He is very, very, drunk.  I'm hoping he crawls off to bed pretty soon.  He's already made several, very drunken, phone calls. 

You might think, in a situation like that, I'm embarrassed.  I am, somewhat.  You might think I am ashamed of him slurring his words and making no sense to whatever poor soul's on the other end of the line.  I'm not, really. 

Ron's shame is his own.  I don't have to own it.  He's the one drinking, not me.  If anything, his bad behavior probably makes me look like a *better* person for enduring. 

In the meantime, I do my best to ignore it. 

I do get frustrated at him, though.  He is always using the walker in the house.  He can walk well enough to do without the walker in the house, but he likes to sit on the walker in the kitchen and drink.  If I want a drink, or to throw something away, I have to ask him to move, which can have mixed results. 

He admits he is lazy.  How is he going to improve if he's "lazy"? 

It's hard for me because I regularly exert myself, and it's frustrating to see him sitting on the walker, mumbling, drunk.  Maybe he uses it because it is too hard to walk when he's drunk.  I didn't think of that. 

Anyway, yesterday.  Our ride to dinner was 30 minutes late, then showed up with an attitude honking the horn like a loser boyfriend.  We came out and got in the vehicle.  She asked me how things were going, I told her about the cats. 

She then proceeded to regale me with horrible tales of feline tragedy.  I don't know why she thought I wanted to hear these awful stories.  I don't want to hear about cats suffering, being abandoned, and dying. 

We went to pick up another client.  When we got there, he had a massive attitude and kept complaining.  He was nearly screaming at the driver.  Then the long tirade about the horrors of Metrolift, how it is a terrible program, etc.  How is that going to help anyone have a better night?

I made a joke about bringing a "40" (ounce beer) to work if he keeps getting dropped early.  He then went into this whole thing about how he was going to get very drunk that night, etc. 

Ron just nearly threw his microwave on the floor.  I managed to stop him.  I did try to encourage him to go to bed.  He is sitting right there at alcohol central, with hard liquor at hand, so I'm a little worried "we" may be in for a blackout tonight. 

It's been a while, so we'll see. 

Maybe he'll just pass out in the kitchen.  It's happened before. 

This is probably why he wouldn't eat at dinner - he always says he gets drunker if he is hungry and has an empty stomach. 

Anyway, dinner last night: we got to the steakhouse, it is modestly priced and pretty good (Texas Roadhouse).  However, I have problems with steak.  Last year, I vomited up both the steak and my medication.  The boys (kittens) found it enthralling. 

Last night, I became queasy after eating.  I was glad I had waited to take my medication.  For whatever reason, steak doesn't agree. 

I can only eat hamburgers, making me the ideal, economy, bride. 

[something just crashed on the floor, I'm going to ignore that]

Ron got a rib and steak combo which he found delicious.  I was glad he had a good time. 

We had a good ride home with a driver I like.  Later on, I ate a protein bar and took my medication, then went to bed. 

This morning we had a trip to Walmart.  Ron was very sullen and didn't want to go.  I told him he at least owed me that much.  He kept telling me to take a cab, and I kept reminding him they don't pick up anyone at Walmart, ever.  I have tried. 

So he came, complaining bitterly the whole time.  He was especially angry the driver was half an hour late.  The guy called and asked if that was "OK".  Ron said no, it wasn't, but he didn't have a choice. The guy really shouldn't have called, it just made Ron really upset. 

I chatted with the cab driver as Ron glowered in his seat, sending me text messages warning me not to talk to the driver.  Excuse me, I'm not your bitch. 

We needed two outdoor chairs, so, once I got Ron in the kiddie cart, I found them and loaded them into the cart.  I had 3 legs in the cart and one leg sticking out.  It made it hard to go down the narrower aisles. 

People kept gaping at us. 

I didn't get much, just some yogurt, soy milk, protein bars, stuff like that.  I also got some disinfecting wipes and cleansers.  Cat litter, unscented of course. 

Ron became progressively more belligerent as we shopped and accused me of "not caring about his feelings". 

"You're always in a bad mood" I told him "So what's the difference?" 

He got a little histrionic after that.  It was tedious.  He was, I think, trying to embarrass me by declaiming my "poor treatment of him".  People were gaping and one woman was following us, eavesdropping, until I stopped the cart, gave her a sharp look, and waved her on ahead.   She gave me a sheepish look and moved away. 

All this because I need a trip to Walmart every week.  I don't ask for much, I think, but according to him it was far too much.  He's the one who wanted the new chairs! 

His cats are the ones crapping in the litter box.  They need litter.  I need to eat, every day even.  [sigh]  But when someone is selfish all they see is "me" and "I". 

He wanted to sleep in, drink, and watch movies.  "I" needed to get cleaning supplies, litter, and food.  "I" was the unreasonable one. 

It continued all the way out to the truck.  Ron had called our driver to come pick us up. 

I found it ironic that Ron kept screaming, sarcastically "Let's be a happy family, Heather!" dt5rrrr  (biscuit says hi) during the entire trip to Walmart, but the minute we got out to the truck he underwent an attitude adjustment.  He didn't want to embarrass himself anymore by acting like a selfish little brat. 

Suddenly Ron was very calm and logical - and this is why I think a lot of "Ron" is just bad behavior and not a head injury issue.  He can turn it off.  He always turns it off when he's around someone he respects, and doesn't want to "shame" himself with bad behavior.  He also knows those people will hold him accountable for bad behavior. 

We got home, #6's yard guys had finished, and we got - I got, everything into the house. I put the old chairs in the garbage out front (someone stole them before the garbage man came - only a hoarder would want broken, filthy, chairs), along with the 95 gallon trash can.  I put the new chairs in the catio area and came back in the house, then I took a nap. 

Torbie joined me, and Biscuit came by a few times to say hello. 

When I got up, I did my God Time.  I was nearly done with it when Ron started cursing.  He had made a trip to a fast food burger place, and forgotten to cancel it.  The ride was due in a few minutes. 

I got dressed (God has never complained about my attire, or lack thereof, during our time together), and put on my flip-flops.  Ron tried to weasel out of the trips on the phone but decided to go at the last minute. 

We headed out to one of my favorite drivers.  She is a tiny little thing about my age.  Very nice.  Very seasoned, very good driver. 

We picked up 2 other clients and then got dropped off at the burger place.  The sky looked very ominous, heavy dark clouds looming overhead.  Sure enough, about halfway through our meal it began to rain. 

Our driver to come home had to deal with some heavy downpours, which happily stopped pretty much when we got home.  I got Ron in the house and put the garbage can away.  That was a little tricky.  It was still raining and very muddy. 

I rinsed off my flip-flops in the gutter, before I came in, the water was very warm and relaxing.  I love puddles after a summer rain. 

I turned on the computer and started doing my thing, not realizing Ron was chugging the equivalent of 3 glasses of wine on top of the Benadryl he had already taken at the burger place.  No wonder he got so belligerent. 

I hear him snoring now so I think I'll be OK for tonight.  I didn't much appreciate him calling me a bitch because I suggested he got to bed, though. 

I'm just trying to keep us out of the emergency room tonight.