I did some cleaning, got rid of a box I keep behind the door that might impede Ron (the door wouldn't open all the way, he could always get in anyway, but still...), put that in the garage. I am getting scared of the garage. It is as bad as the one next door that our drivers are always gaping at and mocking.
But I've never been one to worry what the neighbors thought, that's why I married a blind man in a wheelchair.
Actually, Ron and I "lived in sin" for 11 years after we first got together. I had no spine and couldn't afford to live on my own, so I couldn't give him an ultimatum. Ron figured I was with him "for the money" so to speak (even though we were always poverty to low income per the charts). During this time, Ron was fine except for being blind.
Then the accident. Now Ron's in a wheelchair. THEN I married him (he finally figured out I was a keeper). That was a little over 13 years ago, but we count the whole 24.
Don't do what I did. Because we weren't married, I had no legal say on what happened to Ron. His Dad made all the decisions (happily we agreed on what Ron would want). I had to beg him, at one point, to consent to lifesaving surgery or Ron would have died.
"Don't you want to know we did everything?" I pleaded.
Bad times. Don't put yourself through it. Either they are worth marrying or they aren't. If they aren't worth marrying why live with them?
I know, money, trouble, etc. I know all the excuses because I made them for 11 years but you will save yourself a world of trouble if you reconsider.
What have I done today? Well, I got up, took my shower and did my God Time. Torbie hung out with me for the God Time and Biscuit hung out in the bathroom during my shower. Ron calls him "The chub in the tub" because he likes to walk along the back edge of the shower enclosure.
That would have been a good blog title. Happily Ron has never called me "Chub in the tub". [snicker]
I cleaned up the house and did a load of laundry. I have an unreasonable fear the washer is not working but I have to use it sooner or later. I have a fan and my music going so I can't tell if it's working or not. I have to leave that to God and say "God, please make it work".
I don't know if I told you, but Ron walked 300 feet on the walker last night. "You'll be running laps by the time they send you home" I told him. He agreed.
I also told him they had written his discharge date on the whiteboard in his room (10/26), which means Ron is only 1/3 of the way through his stay. They have done such a good job with him already, in one week he is ready to ride paratransit to come home and do sales tax.
That's what I'm waiting for, Ron to come home and do sales tax. He warned me this won't be a social visit but I know he will enjoy seeing our cats. Torbie has been fiending for cat treats all morning and I didn't give her any so Ron can be the good guy. He can treat them a couple times before/after doing the accounting.
Good, the washer is at the "rinse" part of the cycle. Yay! Clean underwear! I know a lot of people use another word for that but that's not the word I grew up using.
I don't generate a lot of clothes, and Ron's been doing repeats on his clothes at the rehab, so I don't have a lot of clothes to wash. I end up doling out a medium dab of liquid laundry detergent because the Tide Pod is for a regular sized load, and I just have a small.
That's why I have some liquid detergent in my stash, because this does happen in a small household. If I had a couple of kids I'm sure I'd be doing a large load every day.
My kids clean their own clothes (the cats), so I don't have that worry.
He's working on the spreadsheet right now. You may wonder how Ron uses a computer. He has a talking computer. No, he doesn't talk to it, it talks to him. He uses keyboard commands, alt, tab, control, etc. to open and close windows. He uses a keyboard to "talk" to the computer, and the computer "talks" back to him verbally. He has done this for over 20 years (not on the same computer). It is not online. Ron wisely decided, on his own, the internet might get him in trouble.
I started my second load of clothes, jeans, a sheet, and some other dark stuff, all topped with some "dark" detergent. Well, I put the detergent in first. I am finally getting the hang of it after my old washer.
Since I have it on "bulky" I am sure it would dissolve it anyway, but why screw it up? If it's working, why not do things by the manual?
I am dying to go pester Ron about the sales tax, but I won't. He will have the information when he has the information.
He did spend a couple minutes petting and treating the cats, when he first came in.
Then he used his black hole.
He gave me permission to talk about it. See, when Ron was in the hospital after his accident he was afraid to use the urinal. He had head injury dementia and was terrified his father would beat him if he "wet the bed" by using the urinal. I kept telling him it was OK but he said no, it wasn't.
I finally, in desperation, told him the urinal was a secret black hole that took the urine and hid it away forever, and would never, ever, ever, spill on the bed. I exaggerated a little on the last. If I called it the "black hole" Ron would use it, if the staff used the word "urinal" he wouldn't.
Then he started asking for the black hole, which of course baffled the nurses. I had to explain it meant = urinal. Ron has continued to call a urinal a black hole.
Years ago, Ron found a 2 liter juice bottle. It had a screw on cap. Ron loved it. He decreed it his new "black hole" and began using it as his urinal. So, now and again, I will buy a 2 liter bottle of diet juice of some sort and drink it up, giving Ron the bottle. He is always happy to have one.
He is accustomed to using them now, and I don't think he ever pees in the toilet. He has been using the urinal (and calling it a urinal) for the last couple of days without any problems. However, when I asked him if he wanted his black hole he became so excited he almost cried. He missed it.
The thing smells awful, though. I will have to bleach it out after he leaves.
Ron arrived, did the sales tax, treated the cats.
I rode back to rehab with him (he took paratransit and had put me down as his caregiver). I spent about 7 hours there, just hanging out with him, and then came home.
I am beat. I'm going to bed.