"If you can't regulate it, you need to get help"
Today was a pretty standard day, I got up, did my God Time, took my shower, and did some accounting work for Ron. The new database is working correctly.
I ate some horrible, mislabeled, "Small Curd" cottage cheese. I like the large curd, not the small. Small curd is just nasty but I choked it down so I could take my pills.
I hate it when they mislabel the cottage cheese. It's one reason I have trust issues with dairy labeling. I heard, back in "the old days" cottage cheese was provided in big open pans. You could just portion out however much you wanted and buy that. I think I would have preferred that.
Then I took a nap. I slept with Torbie. While I cuddled with her I called her the "bed worm". She was awfully cute, and I didn't mind that she hogged the whole middle of the bed.
After all, that's why I have a queen bed, to make room for the cats.
So far, so good.
Ron's alarm woke me up. His vodka delivery was coming. Ron ran to get it and began drinking, then he tried to give it to me.
After his last blackout, he realized he was drinking when he was already drunk, consuming a lot more than he thought. "I didn't feel anything so I drank some more" he'd say.
He wanted to give me the bottles so I could keep him from drinking more. "That looks like a game" I told him "I have to keep you from drinking? I don't think so. You will have to regulate it yourself. If you can't regulate it, you need to get help."
He acted all betrayed and pouted, but he put it away. I'm not going to play drinking games. If he can handle it, he can handle it. If he can't handle it, he needs to get help, but he has to realize that.
I am tired of having my kitchen wrecked during his blackouts. I'm just tired. Hopefully this will all come to a head and get resolved.
We both deserve better.