"That's very rude"

Well, the boss never responded to Ron's drunk-dialing so I guess he just decided to ignore it. 

Yesterday we went into work.  Someone immediately complained the bottled vendor wasn't working.  The bottled vendor has a "robot" arm that moves across and down, grabbing the drink (if you put in enough money, ha ha), and then dispensing it.  It's pretty complicated.  It's had a lot of repairs recently, I think about $600 total since September. 

But it makes a lot of money, so we want to keep it working.  A soda costs us 49 cents, we sell it for $1.25.  That's a good deal for all of us. 

I got Ron in the building and told him the bad news.  He called our repairman, who said he'd like to trouble shoot over the phone.  He took me deep into multiple layers of programming, to diagnostic test menus and cleared error messages.  Settings I would never dream of altering. 

Finally, though, he suggested the real fix: turn it off, leave it for a little bit, and turn it on again.  It worked perfectly after that.  I'll have to try that next time.  It sure won't hurt anything, and is a lot less scary than the programming modes. 

After that, we got everything stocked and went home.  I took a nap - and I can't remember what I did last night.  I think I just ate something at home and went to bed.  I don't remember. 

Today, though, was hard to forget.  First trip we went to Carl's Junior for breakfast.  I told Ron, if I had to work on my day off, I wanted a Breakfast Burger from Carl's.  It has a bun, ketchup, a layer of tater tots, a meat patty, an egg patty, and a layer of cheese.  It's really good and filling.  Oh, and bacon.  I almost forgot the bacon. 

When we came out to our ride the driver told me Ron would have to ride in the back.  OK.  We're alright with that.  It's better than being crowded in the backseat, 3 across. 

The young man next to me was, ah, mentally limited.  The driver was playing rap music and he was flailing his arms and bouncing in his seat, rapping along with the music.  It was pretty unforgettable, I'm just glad he didn't hit me in the face, waving his hands like that. 

We dropped them (there was another client as well) off at their workshop and headed off to Carl's.  We would be there for an hour. 

Yesterday Ron forgot to bring the sales tax data to work, so we were unable to complete and mail the form.  He was really beating himself up about it. 

Is that related to his drinking?  Probably.  One day, says my Dad, he will hit rock bottom and realize he has a problem.  I remind myself of that, and Dad worked with addicts (as a volunteer) for over 30 years. 

So, we had to work on our day off, which meant he had to be sober for most of it.  We filled out the sales tax form.  I marveled at my neat, precise, handwriting.  It looks so much better before I take my medication.  My typing is a lot better, too. 

We got that done and sealed up.  Then I took the sodas out of "jail" (I didn't want large amounts of "sodawater" anywhere near the only copy of our sales tax form).  My burger arrived, and I ate it.  It was delicious. 

I would have gotten one to eat for dinner but I didn't think it would refrigerate very well. 

It'll just be my special breakfast treat, now and then. 

Ron apparently drunk-ate (is that a thing?) half a burrito last night, so he was pretty full still.  He was really upset when he got home today and found it gone. 

Very rarely I will remind Ron that alcohol is not his friend.  I didn't, today, but I thought it when he complained about eating the burrito with no memory of the act. 

In the meantime, we still had to get to work.  Our ride pulled up, a large van (seats about a dozen).  Two women were already seated on the van.  I recognized them. 

It's a mother and daughter pair.  The daughter has some intellectual limitation, and the mother accompanies her everywhere.  Years ago, the paratransit monthly passes had a 3 digit code.  If you knew the general numerical range, "you" could fake a pass number and ride for free. 

I didn't know the old lady was doing it until, one month, Ron got 388 for his pass number.  She got on one day and said her number was 388.  I told her I'd like to see her pass, because my husband had the same number.  I took out his pass and showed everyone it was a legitimate pass, then I asked to see hers.  She mumbled something about leaving it at home. 

After that, if I knew we were picking her up, I would warn the driver about the phony pass and suggest he ask to see it.  When they did that, she produced a 1-ride ticket instead, still mumbling she had left the pass at home. 

A note here: if the driver doesn't collect the proper fare they are fined. 

Ron finally called the company about this, and they instituted a policy of viewing ALL passes from that point onward.  They even look at Ron's yearly pass, even though they've seen it before, and they check the expiration date too (that's another story). 

So, I didn't like her much. 

That was cemented today when I got on the vehicle.  We recognized each other. 

"Boy, you've gained some weight, haven't you?" 
"That's very rude" I replied - it's the first thing I thought. "Does it make you feel better about your own life?" 

I didn't speak to her for the rest of the trip, happily a short one.  When they left, the daughter made a point of telling me to have a nice day, in a very apologetic tone.  I told her I hoped she had one, too, and I meant it. 

What a horrible old lady. 

After that, we picked up another client, couldn't have been nicer, a very lonely old lady who just talked and talked, wanted to hear about the cats (now that's lonely) and Ron's back surgery.  We had fun talking. 

I like nearly all the other passengers on the service.  It's just the rare client, or driver, making odd comments about my weight. 

Now I was taught you don't talk about someone's weight, unless they have clearly lost some.  That's just my upbringing.  I guess other people think it is appropriate to discuss weight gain. 

It's like I told a lady at work, I have to take crazy pills.  They make me fat.  I'm evil when I'm unmedicated (I certainly can be).  I can be fat and happy, or skinny and evil.  Trust me, you WANT me fat!  And we all had a good laugh. 

Have I committed to a diet and fitness plan?  No.  Not with this depression, I think I do well to keep my weight level, which I have, for years now. 

Most importantly, I wear clothes that fit so I'm not erupting out of my jeans.  When Mom and Dad came to visit, they both made a point of complimenting my (Walmart) jeans.  I think what they really liked was the fit. 

It's very easy to say "this will zip, so it fits" and it doesn't.  I would rather wear something a little loose (I can pull off my jeans without unzipping them), than something a little tight, showing my underwear lines and leaving red marks on my waist. 

We got to work, they were supposed to give us 10 minutes but left us for an hour.  I mailed the sales tax, gossiped a little with a friend (about my ride), and put the bottled Cokes into the fridge.  Ron waited outside.  One of the postal police officers came and talked to him. 

We were outside so long the top of Ron's head started to burn.  We finally had some sun today. 

Eventually, our ride came and we went home. 

Ron started drinking.  I took a nap, got a pretty good one, and woke up with 2 cats in the bed (Torbie and Biscuit). 

I did my God Time (I had a cuddle with Biscuit this morning, instead), and finally took the Claratin (I take the kid's dose) I had forgotten this morning. 

Then of course I had to come and update you on all my antics.