Party mix

I had nightmares.  I didn't sleep well.  I had to get up at 3. 

I was actually supposed to get up at 1:45, but I had forgotten to set my alarm.  So I got up late and ran around getting ready. 

We went to work, sales were dead.  Ron complained about getting up early for Dr Pepper.  Dr Pepper was later, but not late.  We got our delivery and put it away, paid the man. 

Ron just asked me to describe how some women look to him.  I told him I didn't feel comfortable doing that.  He wasn't terribly surprised at my answer. 

He wanted to know for impure reasons, I believe, not out of honest curiosity.  I don't feed that, ever.  We had enough troubles with Ron cheating in the past, I am not about to feed anything that looks like that now.  I didn't get into all that with him, I just said I didn't feel comfortable telling him.  He left it alone after that. 

He did ask if  the other women's butts were as big as mine.  I told him I don't look at women that way.  And I don't. 

Back to my day.  We had to go to the bank again, lugging yet another jar of quarters.  Ron had wanted to make one trip with 2 jars, but I told him no way.  They are very heavy, at least 40 pounds each, and I'm not wrecking my back for the business. 

Ron told me I got paid to help him.  I told him "Not that much!"  We went and made our deposit, we also took some $1's, made a deposit there, paid back savings (we had borrowed).  I had already been paid so that didn't happen. 

We came home and I took a nap.  I was pretty tired.  I got up, did some computer, got some dinner.  I was pretty tired (well, I got up at 3!) so I went to bed early. 

I had more nightmares.  I am starting to think it might be the new Depakote formulation.  They weren't as bad, though, so I have hopes it will just taper off. 

I got up, took my shower.  Ron needed some help this morning, he can't stand up straight anymore, it's his back.  Damned surgery didn't work.  This can happen.  Anyway, he needed help and I gave it.  He apologized for "being a burden" and I told him "I married you after the accident, knowing what to expect.  If I wasn't in it for the long haul I wouldn't have married you.  I don't mind helping you."  Not quite true, if I am doing something else and he yells for me I get impatient, but I'm a human being. 

Ron was feeling very affectionate as a result, something I haven't seen much of with the drinking.  He asked me to find him a Kiddie cart when we got to Walmart.  I had to dig it out, but I got one. 

I helped him transfer to the cart and then lifted the wheelchair into the basket.  "Wow, you're strong!" Ron boasted as I did it.  I won't tell him I smacked myself in the leg, leaving a bruise (not a bad one).  Living with Ron really helps me to value everything working in my body.  It's sad but true, I'm good from the neck down.  Neck up, I have a lot of issues, but neck down I am good to go. 

We had fun rolling all over the store.  We got the wet wipes (using those rascals in the bathroom really cut my bladder infections), we got Ron antacid.  We got Glucosamine for him, and aspirin for me.  We went to the candy section. 

I already had plenty of taffy.  Walmart has a really good store brand taffy in a blue bag.  If you like taffy, get some.  It is only $2 and you get a lot in a bag.  I ate one once and it was really good (it was improperly wrapped and I couldn't hand it out, but that's the only "defect" I found in a couple bags of taffy).  I wanted caramels, the little squares.  I got those, and I got the gum.  And then I saw it: Party Mix candy.  I had been talking to Ron about this the other day, how I used to put a handful in each bag, how Sam's used to sell a huge sack of them for about $7, etc.  And here they were.  They were a smaller bag, of course, and more expensive.  That's to be expected.  I told Ron about the contents and asked his opinion.  He said, get them, so I did. 

Now, shopping, I didn't have a lot of room in the cart due to the wheelchair.  The wheelchair took up about half the shopping cart space.  But we managed to fill it with the stuff we needed, exciting things like toilet paper and such.  We didn't get anything for the cats because they have plenty of food and litter. 

I got ready to check out and Ron gave me some money.  I thanked him and used it to pay.  Thanks to his love offering I still have about half my pay, and that's after the health insurance deposit. 

That always sucks, making that deposit.  It's so much, and what do I get back?  I give them $420 and I get back $120 discount on my pills.  I'm still in the hole $300.  But I pay it because if I don't, I'll need it, and like Dad says, even though I have a high deductible the company has negotiated lower rates for common procedures I might need (stitches, broken bone, stuff like that).   So I did it. 

Then I went to McDonald's.  I am not generally a fan of their food, but, if pressed, I will buy and eat a double cheeseburger, ketchup only.  I did that. 

Ron had talked me into buying him some Stax potato chips.  Actually, he asked me to get him "Those delicious chips you shared with me, last time".  So I got us each a can.  $1.18 and makes for some very good eating.  Full of chemicals, but not greasy. 

Ron ate some of his chips while I murdered my cheeseburger and took my morning medication.  We waited on our cab. 

The next part of my day is controversial.  I am sure I will get yelled at over this. 

The driver who came to get us is the same driver who buys Ron vodka.  Ron was "out" of vodka (however much that means).  He asked the driver to get him some vodka on the way home.  The driver said, the Spec's is way out of the way, pointing in the opposite direction of our house.  Ron said, go anyway.  It was going to be a hefty cab fare if this happened. 

So I said, there's another one, closer, and gave him directions.  Yes, I know.  Enabling.  But I saw it as helping the cab driver and keeping our bill down, I didn't see it as enabling Ron.  Ron was getting it regardless, I just made it a little cheaper. 

The cab driver came out with 5, 1.75 liter plastic bottles and one, smaller, glass bottle.  "They didn't have six".  Ron and I did not like the concept of him with a glass bottle, but Ron said "I have a funnel and an empty plastic bottle at home".  So he poured it (I didn't help) and threw away the glass bottle.  Actually, I threw it away.  I have no problem throwing away empty booze bottles.  It's just bringing in the full ones. 

The cab driver understood that I was happy to help with the wheelchair (but he got it) and the groceries (he would have gotten them, but I did it), but I did not want to deal with the vodka.  So he took it in the garage and set it down.  Ron paid him and tipped him generously. 

We went in the garage.  I took out the garbage can (comes tomorrow) and I closed the garage door.  Ron found the vodka and got the glass bottle for management.  I took the groceries in the house and put them away.  Ron, when I finished, went in and poured the glass bottle into the plastic one, then gave me the bottle for disposal.  He probably had some of the vodka but I don't monitor.  Al-anon says don't monitor the drinking, so I don't. 

I was unhappy to note something on my way into our garage, #6, his gate open, all his folding tables set up in the yard for a party.  Then he played loud Mexican music (before and after he did that, the neighborhood was totally quiet) for a couple of hours while he set up and "mowed the yard".  After the freeze, all the grass is dead.  I don't know why he would mow, but he always tries to clean up the yard before a party (understandable, if annoying). 

I had wanted to take a nap, but found it very difficult with the loud music, commercials in Spanish (he was playing a radio), etc.  I still lay down.  It is better to get 15% rest then no rest.  Torbie got up on the bed and wanted some petting.  She lay down on a pillow next to me (sort of a body pillow) and purred as I pet her.  We had a good time.  I asked her to please come visit me like this at night, and she looked at me with "I'll do what I want, thank you, Heather" very clearly written in her eyes. 

He finally shut up (#6) and I got a little rest.  I got up and wrote a diatribe on one of my message boards about illegals.  I am not a fan. I have lived, literally with (one year sharing a house) or around Mexicans for nearly 30 years, and what I have seen has not impressed me.  On the other hand, I love African immigrants, they have totally impressed me with their compassion, respect for American culture, hard work ethic, humor, etc.  They assimilate, and learn the language.  They don't expect Americans to learn their language, they learn English.  They respect the disabled and the aged, unlike some people who like to have loud, late-night parties even with said older (Ron was about 58 at the time), disabled people literally begging them to turn it down so we could work tomorrow.   No contest.  If we can only have so many, let them be the Africans. 

That finished, I ate my remaining hamburger (I always get one for dinner, when I go to Walmart) with some chips, and ran a load of clothes for Ron.  He gets a lot of stains on his clothes.  We have solved that by ordering him a bib.  He is fine with this, and has asked me about it repeatedly.  I kind of hesitated because it feels like crossing a threshold "And then he needed a bib" and what else is coming?!  But I finally ordered it because he's right, not having one makes a lot more work for me.  It's just a step.  But there have been many such steps in my marriage.  First, there was the long white cane.  He always had that.  Then it was the wheelchair, commode chair, and shower chair.  He graduated from those to independently using a walker.  Then it was into the wheelchair again (thank God still able to use the toilet and all), then back to the walker.  And again, now stopped at the wheelchair. 

A couple of years ago, when Ron was doing much better, I offered to buy him a cane, and he said under no circumstances, absolutely not.  To him a cane meant he was "old".  It's funny, I told him, you have no problems using a wheelchair. 

"It's different" he said, and it is.  Getting the bib just means admitting I have a messy eater, and he's always been that. 

You know what we ate on our first date?  Nachos.  Talk about messy  He had cheese sauce in his mustache (he wore one, back then).  I don't think he got it on his clothes but it wasn't for lack of trying. 

It didn't faze me, and it doesn't.  The, using the, bib won't,  but it feels like a huge step toward admitting he is "worse". 

Physically, he is.  Nothing I can do about that, but Ron has decided, on his own, to do some physical therapy exercises on his own.  They sure can't hurt. 

All I can really do is stay healthy so I can take care of him.  Happily I haven't had to pick him off the floor in years.  If he falls when drunk, I don't even bother to pick him up, it's too hard and he gets violent.  So I don't.  He just wakes up on the floor realizing he had a blackout.  But one time, right after I got him home from the hospital, sober, he fell on the floor, trying to turn himself around in bed.  He kept saying his feet felt higher than his head, I kept telling him the bed was flat.  I heard a thump and woke up to Ron hanging off the side of the bed.  I got him back into bed. 

Another time, a few months later, he fell trying to walk into the bedroom and couldn't get up.  I got him.  It does make me glad I'm 20 years younger than him.  He was sober then, too. 

He really didn't start drinking again until he came back to himself 100%, and that was several months later.  I kind of liked the first guy, he was sweet, appreciative, and never drank.  But I didn't get to keep him. 

But Ron talks a lot about how skinny I used to be when we met.  I was about 120.  That was a while back! 

Anyway, that's it for now.  So far no party so I guess they aren't having it tonight.  I think it's supposed to rain this weekend so maybe they will have it indoor on Saturday night.  They nearly always have their parties on Saturday night.