I didn't know this when I got up. I went about my normal day, shower, run the fan in the bathroom, God Time, drink my Diet Mountain Dew, etc.
Then I put the ink in the printer. That was a little tricky but I did it. I positioned the printer so it would print easily now. It printed a test page. Good, it's working.
I got Ron. For whatever reason he was very foggy and fatigued. I didn't know this at the time. He was very slow.
We found a food handler permit course and I got out my debit card "I don't want your number out there" I told him. He can give me the $7 or just buy me a hot chocolate when we go to Starbucks tomorrow.
We began the course. It was supposed to take 2 hours but it took longer than 4. Ron kept asking the same question again and again and having a lot of trouble with the quizzes. I would have to read the question several times, several ways. I'd have. To break. It up. Into little. Bites. I read the answers again and again.
He just seemed confused and foggy today. He wasn't drunk, he was out of vodka. About this point Chuck came bearing a case of vodka. Ron paid him and put the vodka in the garage. Then back to work. "What was that again? I'm so tired."
We went so long the connection timed out, and I had to relog in. That was an exciting moment there, let me tell you.
If we ever have to do something like this again, I'm going to make sure Ron is alert before we start. It was exhausting, especially when I knew the answer and he kept wanting me to read him the question and answers.
Some of it, the true and false, was easy. Others were more complicated.
Ron and I battled our way through the curricula, him yawning "What was that again?" I had such a hard time with my patience. I just wanted to yell at him.
I was/am also scared to death this is the wave of the future: dementia. Oh, that would be horrible.
I'll have to watch him. He also did a tremendous amount of complaining and yelling at God.
"Ron" I told him "You make a good living at vending. This is just the price you need to pay." He shut up after that and we went back to our microorganisms.
I didn't see why we had to do the facilities design section, we aren't building a restaurant, but I did find it interesting, no carpet in food prep or storage areas. After that they wanted us to take a survey and tell them how we liked the course.
We were exhausted. We just wanted to take the test and be done with it. We had been working for over 4 hours. Finally, test time. 40 questions.
Ron got 33 out of 40, for a passing score. Thank God, time to print the certificate. BISCUIT! NO!
I chased him away from the printer and printed up Ron's certificate. I printed up 2 just to be careful. The printer, of course, printed a test page "for print alignment" before it printed the forms but it did print them.
Thank God, now we're done.
I had waited on taking my Haldol (the way Ron was acting I had to wonder if he had taken it) and antidepressant, normally "morning" pills. I won't do that next time, I don't think I needed to wait.
I took them and tried to take a nap, but the antidepressant had me too alert for that. I mainly just lay in bed for a while with Biscuit lying at my side (he forgave me for yelling at him). I finally got up.
I did the laundry, starting with a load of jeans. Basically all my pants. At the end of the cycle, it appeared to malfunction and I was left thinking what that meant that all of my pants were now hostage in the washer. I don't think I'll do that again.
I hope I can learn to trust this washer the way I trusted the old one.
The jeans finished and I put them in the dryer. I began loading underwear/socks/t-shirts into the washer. Then I remembered I hadn't checked the pockets. Ron has a bad habit of putting napkins in shirt pockets. I took all the clothes out (good thing I use the detergent packs) and went through all the pockets. Nothing. Then I put them back in, arranging them carefully. I added a little liquid detergent because the load was too large for one detergent pac, but not large enough, in my opinion, for two. I started the washer.
I can't really hear the washer because I have the jeans drying. I pray/assume it is working. Like I said, I have trust issues.
That would be a heck of a thing if it held all my underwear hostage.