"Zero tolerance"

I am so angry right now.  I slept horribly, nightmares.  Got up, went to the warehouse.  Got our supplies, unloaded in the pouring rain (Jack was a very good sport).  Didn't have enough time to do all my work so I helped Ron and mailed my health insurance. 

Came home, took a nap.  Woke up, Ron was drinking "I can't remember if I took my Tylenol so I will just drink my back pain away" he said.  Well, that was the gist of it.  He had several drinks while I watched. 

He was pretty drunk when the ride arrived to take us to dinner.  He could barely get from the wheelchair to the seat.  ("Transfer")   He almost fell a couple of times.  We got to the Taqueria.  Unfortunately, Ron's "girlfriend" was there.  He proceeded to make even more inappropriate comments to her, just really awful sex stuff.  She just laughed, she could tell he was drunk. 

But wait, he wants 2 more beers.  She brought them.  He drank them.  I couldn't get him to eat.  He finally had a few bites of my food and ate some chips and salsa.  He proceeded to get salsa on his shirt.  I will have to wash it tomorrow, when he is sober enough to take it off. 

It wasn't a good meal.  I took my pills, wondering if my "new" Depakote is going to give me more nightmares tonight.  I sure hope not. 

Our ride came to go home.  It was a big van.  Ron wanted to transfer to a regular seat, but, again, almost fell a couple of times.  He finally got in the seat.  The driver took it in stride.  Maybe she didn't smell the fumes.  Maybe she did and was just exceedingly polite.  She was very professional, regardless.  Just the right amount of help. 

We got home.  Someone had parked in front of our house.  Someone on the block (I think #7) is having a party tonight.  The driver could barely squeeze in front of our driveway.  Ron, again, had great difficulty getting into his wheelchair.  But he finally made it.  We unloaded. 

He wouldn't pick up his feet so I kept catching them.  Then he would yell at me.  Not fun.  I got him in the house and started taking him to his bedroom.  He objected, he wanted to go "in the kitchen" read: more vodka.  I shut the door to the garage and fed the cats.  Then I cleaned their boxes.  I had to ask Ron to move, twice.  He decided he was better off back in his bedroom, and went.  I heard him cursing as he tried to get into bed.  Apparently he made it because I didn't hear any thumps. 

I am just so sick and disgusted.  It's bad enough he is an alcoholic, does he have to show the world?  It is humiliating being seen in public with him when he's drunk.  Then all the rude sex comments to the waitress.  She was nice about it but that's the kind of "zero tolerance" crap that will get someone banned from a restaurant. 

I feel like things are just going to get worse and worse until he has ruined both our lives.  I sure hope I'm wrong. 

And Biscuit has flopped on the floor at my feet.  He'll take care of all my needs, love, food (he likes to bring me things from the catio, like snakes), etc.  He will live with me under the overpass when Ron loses the business. 

I just want to slap him (Ron, not Biscuit), but it wouldn't do any good and would provoke extreme violence in return.  If I could impart one thing: He's not just impacting his life, but mine.  I deserve better than this. 

I really wish I could have done a bright and cheery post.  But sometimes my life just isn't like that.  I am discouraged and angry but at least I'm not depressed right now.  I just have to gear up for my "one week of spotting after my period" thing I've been doing lately.  But that's nothing. 

I hope you have a better weekend.