Monday, June 26, 2017

"The perfect combination"

I didn't sleep well last night.  The Claratin was alive and well in my system.  It will probably come as no surprise to you that I would take a "cocktail" to stay awake those days when Ron was in ICU.  The medical peeps kept talking about pulling the plug and I didn't want that.  So I stayed there, and stayed awake, as much and as long as possible. 

I found the perfect combination (I'm so lucky I didn't kill myself).  I would take two diet pills with epehedra, which is now banned.  It was legal back then.  Then I would take a Sudafed.  The old style ones kept me awake (like the Claratin does now).  I would wash it all down with a full-sugar Mountain Dew soda and some candy.  It kept me awake for about 36 hours at a shot. 

I was so stupid!  The things we do for love. 

Anyway, the revved feeling I had last night reminded me of my old "perfect combination" days.  I finally fell asleep.  Torbie joined me, we had a good thing going.  And then some idiot started firing off artillery shell fireworks.  An artillery shell is basically a big round ball of explosive (yes, in my manic days I actually set these things on fire and ran like hell).  The explosive has a fuse coming out of it.  It looks like a cannon ball.  They sell it to you with a cardboard tube.  You light it and drop it in the cube, it explodes and goes up into the air, then makes a small "firework" bang with pretty colors.  They are pretty, and fun, but they are very loud, especially on the night of June 25.  I'm not exactly expecting that kind of ruckus over a week before the 4th of July.  They are also very expensive, especially when you consider you can buy a string of firecrackers, buy-one-get-one-free for $1.  It woke me up but good and scared the crap out of poor Torbie.   She ran and hid.  She even hid during my nap today.  We live out in the county and people are allowed to do this. 

I can see why my dog-loving Facebook friends get so angry about fireworks during holidays.  I don't set off any fireworks myself, these days.  Years ago I realized they were freaking out poor Bubba and I didn't want that.  So, I don't. 

It had nothing to do with the fact (if you are a former member of LCF you may recall this) that Ron always seemed to set his hair on fire.  He would hold the firecracker fuse next to his head, but he has frizzy hair.  He would just as often light his hair, as the fuse.  Then he would have to put the fire out, drop the lighter and firecrackers, etc.  He wasn't drinking like he is now. 

At the time, I thought it was funny, and figured if Ron is man enough to pay the mortgage he is man enough to light his own fireworks, if that's what he wants.  Others didn't agree and actually threatened to report me to adult protective services.  It got crazy.  Most people felt I was abusive. 

I wonder what they would say about my life now. 

That's one thing that bothers me, when I talk about Ron's drinking people always assume I am helping him get the alcohol.  I don't.  He calls the liquor store and has them put it on hold.  Then he calls Chuck to go pick it up for him, and bring it to the house.  Chuck brings it into the garage.  Ron pays him.  Chuck leaves.  When Ron wants vodka, he goes in the garage and gets it.  I have NOTHING to do with it. 

All I will do is sit nearby, sometimes, and make sure the cats don't get out.  That's it, and that's serving my interests, not his. 

So, I slept badly and got up at 5 AM.  I took my shower, so glad I had already shaved my legs.  I got dressed, made sure Ron looked OK, and ate my protein bar.  I washed it down with a diet Mountain Dew (my new "perfect combination" = Diet Mountain Dew and Wellbutrin).  Off to work, it was a nice driver. 

Lately, everyone's been asking why Ron is back in the wheelchair.  He is in the wheelchair, and out of it.  It took me a while to accept that.  Right now he is "in" the chair.  I hope he does recover to the point of not needing any assistive devices, but I will take care of him while he does. 

We got into work.  The door on Snack #1 is broken, I could barely get it closed on Saturday.  It sticks about halfway closed, and I prayed, then gave it a mighty shove, and got it done.  It's a good thing, our ride was already outside waiting for us. 

We didn't touch the machine, it has enough inventory to look OK for a while, I just stocked it on Saturday.  Instead, I focused on the other machines, stuffing them with good things. 

I got the sandwich delivery, he is calling my phone now instead of Ron's (I had him do that, last week, when Ron was "sick").  My phone got a text from the cell phone provider saying they got my money.  Good.  They are a good company but I have had problems with billing. 

Ron called our repairman, who could not come today.  [bad word]  I caught Ron with his key in hand, rolling up on Snack #1.  I started yelling "No, no no!".  A postal worker was walking by and thought I was talking to him.  I reminded Ron we are not opening the machine.  He wanted to get quarters out for the bill changer.  He decided to get quarters out of the change buckets and sort them for quarters, then put those quarters in the coin sorter.  I got the nickels and used that to help fill the change bank in #1, I put in 20 nickels and "bought" an empty $1 coil.  Unlike my "smart vend" vending machines, #1 will vend whatever you tell it to. 

That done, we were finished.  I helped Ron do his bottled and canned soda.  We needed 5 cases just of bottled drinks. 

We went out and came home.  I took a nap, Torbie was too scared to sleep with me so she hid in my closet.  I talked to her and she moved around some, on top of the dresser (I took the doors off the closet, put my dresser in there, and hung my shirts on the rod above the dresser).  She did come out after I got up and slept by my foot for a while, while I was on the computer. 

I tinkered with the blog until I was somewhat happy (sorry about all those annoying labels, but at least I got my slideshow and the old pageview back). 

Now I'm going to do my God Time.  I was going to be lazy but I read something about witches doing "binding rituals" on the president.  Regardless of what you think politically, or spiritually, that is spiritual warfare.  I would be a pretty lousy soldier if I didn't pray for all involved. 

Tomorrow should be pretty quiet, we are just going to Walmart.  Hopefully I will sleep better tonight. 

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Wild goose chase

Spending my anniversary chasing down canned Coke in N Houston.