I slept OK last night, it's always lovely to wake up with my face in Torbie's fur (I mean that). We had a good time sleeping in bed together. Torbie is, without a doubt, the perfect cat for me. I am so glad she picked me out at the shelter.
Bear with me if you've heard the story before. I had gone to the shelter to get another black cat after Bubba died. When I got to the cat area I was very strongly led to open a certain door. I went in and sat down. Torbie got in my lap before I even saw her. She was a black/brown/orange tortie tabby. She was great. She did hiss at the other cats when they came by, she wanted me to herself.
That concerned Ron, he thought she was antisocial, but I had him come over and she liked him just fine. Another man came by and asked about her, they told him she was older. He lost interest. So I got up to adopt her. She looked so betrayed when I set her down on the floor, looking up at me with sad and accusing turquoise eyes. A big black man was thrilled (an employee) to hear I was taking her and assured me he would get her through the process and make sure I got my cat.
I filled out paperwork "Do you care if the cat scratches the furniture?" No. "How much do you want to pick up the cat?" As much as she wants. Stuff like that.
Then I waited on line and proved my identity, and that I was a homeowner, to the clerk. Then the cat was processed. The big black man came out holding a carrier, grinning "Here's your cat".
And we went home.
I love it when she sleeps with me.
So, that was a good start to my day. I got up and took my shower, ate one of my last protein bars; not on my eating plan. We went to work.
The other vendor had ordered us some Sunkist Orange and Hawaiian Punch, but it didn't come in. Bad Word. Sales were pretty dead, and this time they had stocked in front of our vending machines. That means the machines were out of order for yet another day to satisfy their requirements for a pristine white floor.
Management might read this, so I can't really share my opinions, but it is frustrating. We need that money so we can survive.
Ironically, I had to move back one of the bill changers, exposing a slightly discolored spot on the floor, so the floor people will be upset about that. But I have to be able to access the vending machines, and I couldn't.
I stocked as best I could and did a detailed inventory. Certain people are very picky about their snacks. They want the same thing, day after day, and get very upset when we run out. So I need to make sure I have those items around.
We had the repairman out to "fix" the soda machine (It vended, but it wouldn't give meter readings, basically an odometer of sales). It had a busted open door switch. He showed me where the switch was, not that I can fix it, but if it happens again with another machine I can play with it and see if I can get it to work.
Then it was time to go. We went home.
I took a nap. Ron kept waking me up. When I got up I realized he had had a blackout. I won't bore you with the details. He damaged his things, and embarrassed himself, but he wasn't verbally abusive to me.
My adoptive mother asked me how he treats the cats during a blackout, and he does just that: treats the cats. So no worries on that account.
He was still pretty drunk but I helped get him ready; we were going to Burger King. At first he thought we were going to work. He was pretty wobbly but did OK getting in and out of the vehicle.
At one point, Ron had to get out of the vehicle and get back into his wheelchair, because the next client was riding with 2 other people. One of the woman's "people" decided to grab Ron's arm and yank it. I asked her to stop, she wouldn't. I was worried she was going to pull him over and make him fall. I finally said "Ma'am, he doesn't like to be helped. Please stop." She finally let him alone and he got into his wheelchair just fine without her "help".
Very rude to just go grabbing on someone without asking if they want the help.
After that, we went to the Burger King. I got a grilled chicken salad, Ron got some tacos. The lettuce was mainly OK but the darker green, greens were very tired and about done. I wouldn't order another one unless I was stuck and had no other option. McDonald's has a much better salad.
I decided to be daring. The last time I ate a green salad with grilled chicken, I got really sick. The lithium did not like the salad and gave me stomach pains and severe nausea. It felt like I was getting stabbed.
I verified Ron still had some pepto and decided to take my pills with the salad only, not eating anything else. I do have some ginger root in with my pills to help with inflammation, it is also good for digestion.
I had some mild nausea, but nothing unusual. Good. Now I know I can do that. I will keep putting the ginger in my pill counter. I am giving the ginger the credit here.
Ron and I went home. He started cleaning up the mess. He was pretty horrified and disgusted at himself. I reminded him of 2 things: portion control, and Neurontin is an amplifier. It turns one drink into 3. If he is having his "usual" amount of drinks while taking Neurontin, he's going to have embarrassing blackouts, I will be upset, etc.
Then I fed the cats. Baby Girl stood in the wet food, which I found disgusting, but Biscuit didn't care. He ate all the gravy anyway. They sure like that dry food, but like the vet said "Carbs make you fat".
I will be going to bed pretty early tonight, because I didn't get a good nap and I have to do a lot of manual labor in the hot sun and humidity tomorrow. You can bet I will use plenty of deodorant.
I plan to have a sausage patty for breakfast, with some fruit. That should be a good breakfast.
I ate a lot of cashews today so I don't know if I will weigh myself tomorrow. We'll see.
I hope Torbie sleeps with me again tonight.
5 comments:
Why do you like Torbie better than Biscuit? Ron has his favorite also. But where does that leave the little chunk aka biscuit? Maybe that is why he is so heavy he is eating to feel loved and feel like the favorite.
Good question. I can only think of 2 answers.
1. Torbie was here first.
2. Torbie gets in my lap. Biscuit only gets in my lap to beg.
But, here I sit, Biscuit lying on my foot, Torbie off on a cat condo somewhere.
Biscuit did pick me out, out of all the people who walked by that day, he chose to climb ME like a tree and pick me to adopt him.
I will work on spoiling him a little better. <3
I love the Torbie story how did you choose her name?
Ron actually chose it. Her shelter name was Kitty Pretty. Bleagh. Since we already had a Baby Girl, I told Ron, let's name her Pretty Girl. But he kept mixing them up.
I did some research and found out tortoiseshell tabbies are known as Torbies or Torbys. I told Ron.
He liked it for a name, and when I thought about it, so did I. So she is basically named after her coloring. :) She seems to like it, especially when I say her name in a high-pitched voice when I am petting her.
Super cute!
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