The bottom of the food chain
I got up exhausted, reset the alarm, and did my God Time later. I strive to do it first thing in the morning, after my shower. It generally does not work out that way.
I took my shower and we went to work. We met the boss and had a good visit. He's a good guy. He also has back troubles so he could really relate to Ron.
We discussed the disposal of the vending machine parts. He wants me to send a formal email to put in the file. Done. Hopefully I can either get them back to the program, or get rid of them. I absolutely cannot sell them, which is fine. I have money.
A customer came by and complained about the "deli". He wanted a hot food operation, didn't care that we bled money operating it, and told us about the cafeteria where his wife works, how "you pick the filet you want and they cook it to order for you". The boss managed to drum it in his head, that's not going to happen here. I was dying to ask the guy why he didn't go work for that company if he liked it so much.
The boss left and I continued stocking. We finished up and came home. I ate a sandwich (I made a couple last week, and they have been convenient), drank some milk, and took a nap.
I had a pretty good nap, but woke up very depressed. I watched a little TV and decided to do some food prep for Ron. I had 3 kinds of presliced deli meat, two kinds of cheese, honey mustard, bread, and mayo. I made 3 sandwiches.
Years ago, during my half marathon training, I had a great 7 mile run. It was harder to make the sandwiches than it was to run 7 miles. What a horrible illness.
These days I'm either depressed or I'm not, I seldom have a couple day mania. At any rate, I put one sandwich in the fridge for Ron and put the other two in the freezer. That way he can take it out the day before he wants to eat it.
The cats ate all their food early, which is unusual for them. They were all begging, different ways, during my God Time (after the nap, before the TV and sandwiches). Torbie sat next to me and meowed, got in my lap, and purred. Biscuit dug his claws into my leg like he was going to sharpen them, and meowed. Baby Girl just meowed and pranced around prettily.
I fed them after my God Time and of course Baby Girl was the only one who ate it right away, the other two started feasting later. They were excited. Apparently the kitchen is the place for cat treats. Whenever Ron goes into the kitchen he treats them and I'm not often found in the kitchen these days.
I thought that was funny. They left me alone after a while.
I also put up the garbage can and checked the mail. It's a beautiful, sunny (well, it was) spring day. It's a shame I can't enjoy it but I remind myself I have eternity. This is temporary.
I tell you, if I didn't have my faith I would have killed myself years ago. I mean, if this life is it what's the point? I don't see how the atheists do it (and I've said this before). This illness is hell, many times "civilians" don't understand it, my husband can be verbally abusive (not today, happily), and I could go on.
I worry about Torbie. She is 9 years old now and probably doesn't have too long. Bubba died at 10 and a half. I will continue to love all my cats and enjoy them as much as possible. Torbie is fun because she gets in my lap a lot, and sleeps with me.
Biscuit hasn't been sleeping with me lately and that, I think, revolves around food. Baby Girl only slept with me the night that Bubba died. She's not very cuddly but she likes petting. She's more Ron's cat.
Although, I hear about cats living to their 20's so who knows. Maybe Bubba just made bad lifestyle choices. Maybe that cheap cat food was no good for him. He wouldn't eat the quality stuff and literally starved himself until I got some 7-flavor feast in some cheap brand. That's the only thing he would eat, aside from people food. He loved meat.
Which is why I could never figure why he wouldn't eat the quality stuff with meat as the first ingredient. He used to like to lick the gravy off the canned cat food pates. He would lick the gravy and then Frosty would eat the pate.
I always felt Frosty was getting cheated (Frosty was an old cat, about 9, when Bubba brought him home), so, one day, I fed Frosty a can of cat food when Bubba was gone. Frosty took one look at the gravy "What is this crap?" and walked away. Bubba gave me a speaking look when he came home and found the cat food waiting for him. I never did it again. That was their deal.
As it turns out, Frosty was diabetic so it was probably better for him. My vet has asked me to try to get them on an all-wet food diet. That's not really practical in our heat but I do feed them wet food (which all of them eat). They have dry for nibbles in between.
We have tomorrow off but didn't make any trips to go anywhere. If we go anywhere, we will have to take the bus or a cab.
Ron is keeping busy reading his talking book catalog. It keeps him out of trouble and away from the vodka bottle.
That's if for now. I hope you're having a better mood than I am.