Sunday, April 2, 2017

Hypocrite

Ron's on a drunk.  I don't know how else to describe it.  He was loud last night, keeping me up.  He was loud today, falling on the floor.  He has been passed out for most of the day, with the exception of two trips to the bathroom.  At least he sobered up enough to make our trips for tomorrow.  I was sure he had messed that up, but he didn't. 

I'm angry.  Of course I am.  I didn't marry a drunk, I married a vibrant overcomer.  Now he just curls up in the bottle all day.  How depressing. 

He got pretty vicious with me last night, too.  He decided to call the paratransit company, multiple times, and preach "the mark of the beast" to each representative he encountered.  He was clearly drunk.  One woman hung up on him.  He kept calling them back. 

I finally asked him to stop, so I could get some sleep "You can call them tomorrow".  Then I got a lecture/verbal abuse/name calling because I wouldn't let him torture these poor people. 

Now, here's a question, especially for the unreached among you.  If someone is preaching God at you, and they are very drunk, are you at all receptive to the message?  I don't think so.  Behavior like that shames Jesus and diminishes the message. 

That would be like me doing a Bible Handout, half naked.  It's just wrong.

I got up this morning, had a headache.  I took some aspirin and drank a Diet Dr Pepper.  I took a hot shower and realized I needed to clean the tub.  I did my God Time and cleaned the tub.  Hopefully I can get Ron in there for a bath pretty soon. 

Probably not tonight, though. 

After all that, I decided to take a nap.  But #2 had the dog out back and Ron woke up.  He made some noise.  I didn't talk to him.  To quote my Dad, I "Didn't have anything nice to say".  I didn't play "silent treatment", I just played possum. 

I did manage to get a nap and boy I had some strange dreams.  I finally woke up and watched a little TV, but nothing really on.  I ate and took my pills, all to the chorus of Ron's snoring. 

He's still snoring, at least he's alive. 

I wonder for how long, though.  He is really harming himself.  He said he had a lot of stomach pain and went through 2 bottles of pepto in one week, at one point. 

I wonder what it will take for him to hit rock bottom and realize he has a problem.  He probably would if I left him, but I'm not willing to do that right now.  I'm not overly employable and I have 3 cats, a little hard to get an apartment with them. 

I wouldn't leave them, though. 

But, back to the apartment, this question has plagued me for a while: would I get a first story, or second story, apartment?  Ron can't climb stairs.  He might, but it would be very ugly.  At one point, I spent a year living on the third floor, and liked it a lot.  I never had any serious hassles, and it was a terrible apartment complex. 

That's where we bought our first washer and dryer, because they only had w/d hookups and no laundry room.  Eventually they began renting units with a washer and dryer already installed. 

I have to figure God is working on Ron, invisibly, giving him time to come to an understanding of his problem and a will to get treatment for it.  I think Ron will be unstoppable once he admits he has a problem. 

All this, and I still have great faith in him.  There's a lot in him worth loving. 

The cats: well, I have to explain the measuring cups first.  The cups I had didn't have a 1/3 cup.  So I had to buy a new set with 1/3 cup measuring.  I did that.  The cats have gone from 1 cup a day to 2/3 cup a day with no real issues.  No one is fighting over food.  Everyone seems full.  We even have some leftover dry and wet food sitting on the kitchen table.  (that's where I feed them, on the table).  So far, so good. 

I just want to get them to a healthier point.  I don't want to lose them because I was too lazy to put them on a diet.  There's a happy weight, still overweight but not so flabby, for the cats.  We will find that weight. 

In the meantime I continue to eat bad things (cookies and chips, mainly), so I am a hypocrite.  I tell myself I will commit to a weight loss plan when things settle down, but they never do.  I really need to butch up and do it now. 

In time. 

I am running the washer on the wash cycle.  The service man told me to run the cycle every 6 washes.  I don't do 6 washes a month, and the manual says if I don't do the minimum to go ahead and run the cycle once a month.  So I'm doing that. 

I have told myself to only expect 8 years or so out of the washer, not the 15 I got with the last one (it was still sort of working, when I gave it away).   I am getting acquainted and learning to like it.  It is a big change from the old agitator style I had before. 

Ron's still snoring.  I need to double-check our pickup so I can set an alarm.  We may have a repairman coming tomorrow, the last thing we need is to be late. 

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I can't fix what's wrong with him.

I slept OK, once I got to sleep, and woke up right about the time of my alarm clock.  It hadn't been set properly, apparently.  I got ...