Am I really fine?

Yesterday my aunt picked me up and we went to my doctor.  God love him (Doc), they always have major construction over there. 

We saw him and I had her sit in with me because Doc likes feedback from family members.  Am I really "Fine?".  She said yes. 

She saw a lot of me before so she knows what I look like, going off the rails. 

Afterward we got some takeout and went to her house.  She was babysitting a granddaughter.  We hung out for a couple of hours and then she took me home. 

When I got home, Ron was passed out, sleeping, in his bed.  That's what I "missed" being gone, apparently.  The house looked OK, too. 

I checked the mail (got the electric bill) and checked to see if Ron had made the trip to Walmart for today.  He had. 

I went to bed pretty early because I had to get up at 5, but I had trouble falling asleep. 

I reset my alarm and did my God Time later, got my shower, went to Walmart.  The bill pay center and the bank were both closed.  I did my shopping and found a pair of capris that look like they might work for me, but the fitting room was closed.   I will have to try them on at home.  If they work, I will wash them and start wearing them.  If they don't, I kept the receipt. 

On the plus side, since it was so early we didn't have any troublemakers in or around the store.  We came home.  Ron began drinking. 

He kept interrupting me during my God Time and while I was preparing for the Handout.  It was very frustrating.  I felt like God was reminding me to be patient, so I was, but I did set firm boundaries "I will tell you the identity of the TV dinner when I am done, and no sooner".  Ron balked at that and began drinking more. 

I did get him to clean up the mess of empty vodka bottles, takeout containers, and soda cans, from the sink.  It was so bad I had to move half the stuff to get a glass of water.  I gave him a trash bag and told him to clean it up.  He did. 

Ron is extremely dependent on me.  He can't take out the trash, hell, he can't even get in the house without me..  Forget checking the mail.  I'm not saying it to drag him down but to illustrate, I do everything for him, literally.  Well, the toilet is his own and that's all I will say on that.  And eating.  He's good at that.  Unfortunately he's very good at drinking. 

Now I'm sitting here waiting on my ride to the venue so I can hand out Bibles in yet another ghetto.  I will be by myself this time. I'm not worried, like I told Ron, our old neighborhood in CA was a lot worse.