Pork liver pate

I slept late, had some really weird dreams, and woke up with a headache.  Torbie and sometimes Biscuit, have been sleeping with me. 

I got up and took some Excedrin.  First mistake.  Then I fired up my teakettle and had 2 cups of pu-erh tea.  It is aged a special way and has a unique, strong, flavor.  I like it.  I accidentally made it with 3 cups of water instead of 2, but it was still good, albeit weak.   Then I had a diet Dr Pepper. 

Whole paragraph above, big mistake.  Too much caffeine! 

I decided to bait Possum's trap with some pork liver pate. The cats went crazy when I opened up the can, and ate it themselves.  Good thing I didn't put it in the trap, I'd just be catching cats!  But, if you are trying to trap a cat, try it. 

I took a shower and watched some TV.  Ron finally woke up.  I was about to do his injection when it began raining and the power went out.  I decided to take a nap.  Full of pate, Biscuit joined me and flung a leg over mine like a husband would.  Torbie also joined me. 

I had a good little nap and got up.  The power was back on.  Time to give Ron his shot. 

I asked him to use a bath wipe on his stomach, as he wouldn't take a bath.  I made my preparations.  Sterilized my "tray" and got the rubbing alcohol and wipes.  I unwrapped the syringe and took the cap off the needle.  I drew up the air into the needle, then poked the vial.  My left hand was shaking horribly.  I could barely hold on to the vial.  I had an awful time getting the solution to flow into the needle.  It was frustrating and upsetting. 

I finally got "enough" in the needle.  I couldn't get any more out of the vial.  Was there more?  Hell with it, I threw it away. 

I capped the needle and put it on the tray with the rubbing alcohol and the cotton wipes.  I went into Ron's room as he lay on the bed and disinfected him as best I could.  I uncapped the needle and got a pinch of his skin.  I pushed the needle into his skin.  It wouldn't break the skin.  I pushed harder, and then harder still.  It lurched in, to about 1/3 depth.  Good. 

I depressed the plunger, and the fluid went into him.  I pulled it out.  Nothing came out.  Ron kept asking me when I was going to do it.  I told him it was done, already.  He was impressed. 

He wanted to take me out after that, and, frankly, I could use a treat after all the drama of trying to do the shot.  So we went out.   Ron, as usual, got very drunk before we left. 

One thing I admire about Ron is his generosity.  When I first met him, one time he bought me breakfast at work because I hadn't cashed my first paycheck, yet.  And we weren't even "interested" at that point.  At least, I wasn't.  I don't think Ron would remember. 

Drinking magnifies that.  Everyone knows that drunk who buys a round for the whole bar.  That would be Ron. 

Ron is also verbally abusive.  Drinking magnifies that.  He is at his worst to me when he has been drinking, all the brakes are off. 

So we went to dinner.  Things were fine until the driver came early.  Ron wanted me to chase down the driver and offer to buy him dinner.  Lately, Ron has been buying a LOT of dinners for the drivers, and they aren't cheap.  The average SINGLE dinner runs between $10-$20.  Every time we go out, he wants to buy the driver a dinner. 

At first it was cute and sweet.  Now it has become alarmingly expensive, and some of the drivers are getting entitled attitudes about it "So you're going to buy me dinner?  You did for the OTHER driver!"

We can't afford to buy every driver a takeout dinner.  We can't afford it.  

I told Ron this.  He said all my bills were paid, what did I care?  I reminded him his medication costs well over $600 a month.  He blew that off. 

He kept insisting I drag the driver into the store (which would have entailed walking across a large parking lot, and back, in my flip flops), give him a menu, and let him buy ANYTHING he wanted. 

I told him no, I won't do it.  We can't afford it.  He went into yes we can again and then began verbally abusing me.  I reminded him there was a large table of policemen right near us, and they could hear him.  He didn't care and began calling me worse names. 

So I got up, paid (with the money he had given me) and walked out.  I told him, as I passed him, I would come back to get him when the driver pulled up front.  Ron, so driven to be the "generous, fun client" continued to abuse me. 

I went out front and sat on a bench.  I could see the waiters looking at me, wondering what was going on.  Ron, I'm sure, was raving loudly.  He sent me a text message demanding I come get him.  I did not.  The driver acted like he was going to pull forward. 

I went back in and told Ron to grab his leftovers if he wanted to eat them.  He called me a retarded bitch.  I said OK and I walked back out. 

He sent me a curse text - basically repeating what he had already said, and I sat on the bench.  This is me, ignoring you, being an abusive asshole. 

I would have loved to get his blood pressure.  After a couple more minutes he apparently asked a waiter to take him out.  They brought him over to me.  I got up and walked away. 

I stood about 20 feet away.  I suppose they told him I walked off. 

The driver saw the man in the wheelchair and came over to get us.  Ron told him he wanted to buy dinner, but I "wouldn't" let him.  The driver said he wasn't hungry, anyway.  I gave him some candy (I always give drivers a bag of candy with a tract or scripture booklet), and he said he would give it to the bus washers. 

I chatted with the driver all the way home.  He thought I was pretty cool, especially when I told him about a house for rent in the neighborhood.  Ron muttered under his breath for a while and then shut up. 

He was very quiet when I brought him in the house.  I was expecting "it" to start up again when I shut the door but he was very quiet and went to bed. 

Tomorrow morning he plans to combine a work-related shopping trip with a liquor run. 

I just wish he could hurry up and get on the pain pills, already.  I am sick of living like this. 

I don't think Ron on opioids or whatever will make him a nice guy, but maybe he won't be as big an asshole. 

I gave him a freaking shot today.  I buttered his pancakes at dinner, put syrup on them, and cut them up for the love of all that's holy.  I do everything for him. 

I don't want him kissing my butt but I do expect respect and consideration in return. 

Maybe next week, I should make him go to the doctor for his shot.