I could always do some other kind of caregiving

I slept pretty well last night, considering.  I woke up a lot but I had Torbie in my bed.  She makes everything better.  She did get a little frisky and claw my hand, though, but that was my fault for wiggling my fingers at her, under the covers.   A bedspread and a sheet are not "adequate" protection from kitty claws. 

But I washed it really well this morning so I should be fine. 

Ron got up shortly after I did.  Then I had all the fun (not!) of telling him all-you-did-last-night.  He didn't hurt himself physically, but he did scrape his right shoulder.  He fell down on his right shoulder and kind of stayed on his side for a while. 

I told him I didn't appreciate being called a gold-digger and he apologized.  I took my shower.  I tried to get him to take a bath, after a blackout I figured he could use one, but he refused and opted for a sponge bath instead. 

I told him he needs to change all (!) his clothes.  He is. 

We're about to go to work.  That should keep us busy for a while.  When we get back home, I'm going to encourage him to finish the accounting work on the monthly report. 

I had a dream basically revolving around my accounting times in college.  You may or may not know I majored in accounting, with my illness, undiagnosed.  I carried a 3.2 grade point average.  I was pretty pleased with that. 

Especially considering I was undiagnosed and unmedicated.  Like one of my teachers said "We've got 80 of you on the first day.  We'll be lucky to have 20 on the last day."  I was one of the 20. 

Anyway, it kind of revolved around am-I-too-stupid-now to do accounting?  I know my writing suffers at times, at this level of medication. 

I think it goes back to fears about supporting myself if something happened to Ron.  It's a valid fear, but I have to trust in God for that. 

I could always do some other kind of caregiving.