I didn't sleep well and woke up with nightmares, had one in which I had eaten chocolate. Which meant I was now going to get a 7 day migraine. That's a pretty bad nightmare.
I got up and watched some TV, did some computer, fed the cats of course. Ron woke up and we talked.
I started with "You are scaring me" and led into the story of last night. He laughed and said I should have never asked him if he was drunk, if I had to ask I knew the answer. That everything said and done had come from the alcohol.
Which of course led to the thought: Why are you doing this to us, then? I then moved onto the mess in the house, the disgusting kitchen floor (I had not cleaned it), his clothes, his bed, etc. He cleaned the floor himself (an old rag wrapped around his foot served as mop, and did a passable job), stripped his bed, and took off his clothes. I put everything in the wash after checking it for "landmines".
He wanted to know where the box of bath wipes had come from: I told him I bought them at Walmart. Actually, I explained, since he had paid me back for them already he had bought them.
I took a shower while he talked to me from outside the room. He worked on emptying his urinals. He hasn't been this productive in a long while.
He had been drinking when the last occurred. We were talking about our plans for the week, and I told him I didn't care what days we worked, during the week.
"But I have to pay you" he said "Tomorrow". Oh boy.
He paid me last week, and my pay is enough that I'd think he'd remember doing it. I told him he had paid me already, and "This was the sort of thing that was scaring me".
He said he just forgot, and praised me for my honesty.
I don't know what to think.
5 comments:
I think having to search Ron's bed for excrement is really a new low for both him and you. Seriously can he be anymore disgusting?
Where did I say that?
His bed was a mess, in part because he eats in it. Plus he got in the bed after he threw up, and was "messy".
About the only toilet related thing with Ron's bed are the urinal bottles he keeps underneath.
I am actually curious to see what kind of job the washer did on the soiled clothes. Between the sheet and clothes it was a pretty hefty order.
What did you mean by “land mines” then? Like the other anonymous I took that as poop lol. That’s what a landmine usually means.
Was there a trail of tomato sauce from the kitchen all over the house and into his bed, too? Ugh. Even if you didn’t mean poop=landmine, this is getting out of hand. Maybe save some money to pay someone to help get the house cleaned out so you can keep up keeping clean easier so when Ron’s body has to be extracted it won’t be so bad on you.
OH, to me, "land mines" are things in his pockets that will f^ck up the washer if I don't take them out, paper towels, coins, stuff like that. He loves to put paper towels in his pants pocket or shirt pocket. And, sure enough, I found one.
He got puke on him, rolled to bed, it transferred.
If Ron kills himself with bad living it's going to be a mess regardless. I just try to keep the chaos down to a dull roar.
Edit to add: the washer did a great job getting everything clean.
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