Not an easy day
I got up early and got ready to go. We went to the warehouse and bought our stuff. Ron got 27 cases of drinks.
When Jack showed up, his arm was in a cast. He broke it. On his vacation, no less.
That sucked. I had to admire his work ethic in showing up. I had to keep battling to keep him from overexerting himself (it was all very friendly). We got the truck loaded on our own. The cart attendant never came to help us, the one day we really needed him.
We got to work and I got the carts, got the carts loaded. Ron, trying to "help" move cases of soda, fell down by the truck. Jack felt terrible about it but it happens with Ron.
I told Jack Ron was made of rubber and would be fine. He was. At least he wasn't bleeding.
We got the carts into the building and I started stocking. Ron started working on the sodas.
We got it all done. I had a hard time fitting everything onto the cart afterward, I had some leftover merchandise.
We finally left and came home. Ron was excited because he could drink alcohol for the first time in days. If I had only known.
I - Good, he finally left me alone for now. I didn't want to type too much and then have him threaten to cut off my internet.
I took a nap. I couldn't sleep very long because we had a trip to Walmart. Normally I go on my day off but Ron tied those up with his dental dramas.
I had planned to do my God Time when I got up but I decided to wait, a mistake I later came to regret. I decided to sleep in some more, instead. I hadn't slept great last night due to the "party house" at #19 last night.
My MP3 player has been missing for over a year. It has a USB jack so it can be used as a flash drive. You can imagine how I felt when I walked into the man cave and found Ron plugging it into his digital talking book machine, which can play USB drives.
We had a brief argument. I told him I would have NEVER given it to him, as they don't make them anymore, and when he had custody of one for a day (back when they were making them, and I would have bought him his own), he said he didn't like it anyway. Not as a MP3 player. Apparently he found it on a table, assumed it was a funny-looking flash drive, and started using it. It was full of his music. Yick.
Our ride came about that time. She had apparently quit working for paratransit for a while and come back. And here we go again with the Post Office job. She got mad at me because I told her it is not an easy job, is usually working nights, and involves a lot of manual labor. I told her the Postal Workers (I lost my temper because she got so nasty) laugh at people like her who think it is an easy job. She shut up after that.
We picked up our other client and dropped her off, then we went to the store. Ron wanted to wait up front. Fine.
He asked if I still had the MP3 player. I told him it was at home, in my purse. He got angry.
I went and did my shopping. I called him and asked him if he needed cat treats and he said no. He didn't want anything.
I guess he thought I was trying to be ingratiating. I wasn't, just business as usual at Walmart. If he wants to be pissy that's on him.
We came home. Ron fell over backwards in the wheelchair trying to get into the garage. That's the second time. He wasn't bleeding and he got up OK so I didn't worry about him.
Ron has told me he doesn't want me to make a big fuss when he falls, so I don't. I do worry about his bones, though.
We got into the house and he started drinking, and yelling at me about the MP3 player. He wanted me to "admit" I "gave" it to him. I told him I did no such thing, I would never give it away because they don't make them anymore. He didn't listen, he just started yelling.
Cue about half an hour of verbal abuse and screaming. He trapped me in the computer room, screaming at the top of his lungs about how he wasn't a thief, etc. I said I didn't think he meant to steal it, but found it on a table and took it. That wasn't good enough for him.
As far as he is concerned I owe him an apology. I should tell him I am very sorry for hurting his feelings, admit he would never steal from me, admit I gave it to him, etc. And probably give it back, in his ideal world, since it has a lot of his music on it. The funny - ironic thing is that he was using the most profane, filthy, insulting, derogatory language as he kept going on with his "words hurt" lecture and I even pointed it out to him. He said I "deserved" it for "forgetting" (He doesn't know where it came from either) I "gave" it to him. All this screamed at maximum volume as he sat in his wheelchair.
I would have never given Ron my MP3 player. It had all my music on it, which has now been replaced by old country classics, soul, and hits of the 70's. Bleagh. 130 files I have to delete.
He got so threatening, blocking the doorway (I guess I could have gone out the window, but I didn't have my money, shoes, or bra), that I told him I was going to call the police. It took him a while to settle down, but he did.
He got really angry at even the thought that I would call the police on him. Then he came back to the computer room, swearing he had heard me on the phone. No. He didn't. I told him it must have been my music but he was adamant he had heard me talking.
I told him I hadn't. Maybe I talked to Torbie, who was hiding under my computer desk (poor thing was frightened by the yelling), but I doubt it.
He had several servings of alcohol total, and then went into the bedroom and went to bed. I have to wonder, if he was falling down stone sober today, how much is he going to fall down in a blackout?
And will I have to take him to the hospital?