"I took the back roads"

Looking back, it was not an easy day.  I woke up horribly depressed, with a nasty headache.  It's always bad when I can't take my antidepressant when I need it. 

So I got through that, got dressed, got to the warehouse.  So far so good.  I get the supplies, and some muffins.  Ron wants chips for him to eat, so I get some. 

He ate 2 bags of chips.  One, he says, is good.  The other one, not so much. 

We rode in a cab hired by paratransit, to go to work.  The driver was very nice and we liked him enough to get his phone number. 

Work was awful, Ron was just ugly, demanding, petty, you name it.  He creates drama and crisis out of nothing. 

I would say that is a head injury thing, but it's not.  He used to do that before the accident.  I remember one time he was screaming at me and threatened to fire me, then stomped off walking a mile each way to the convenience store.  Why?  We were out of pickles. 

Who gives a [censored] if we run out of pickles?  It was one day, but Ron acted like he was going to die if he didn't have a gallon of pickles available for sale. 

And I got to restaurants all the time, they are out of something, they just say, sorry, we're out.  But Ron made it into a big production and damaged our relationship over it.  So he had a couple of mini-dramas. 

One example is "Heather is busy so I will load EVERY soda I need into my lap and attempt to roll myself over to the vending machines"  Of course he drops them.  That's about when I stepped in and said "You will not treat me this way.  You are disrespecting me and it is inappropriate.  You need to take a step back."  That's about all I got out before he started screaming at me.  [sigh]  So I told him "I am walking away from you, for a while, until you calm down". 

Finally got most of it done.  He made it a lot harder than it had to be. 

We geo ready to go: heading for the door.  I had to use the bathroom.  I went in and use it, washed my hands.  I don't even have to guess, if they EVER caught me NOT washing my hands it would be the end of us.  I do anyway for food safety reasons (even though I only handle packages) and so I don't get a flu virus or whatever on my hands. 

I come out and Ron says he has to go, but doesn't want to use the work toilet.  He's going to "wait". 

We went outside and the ride came.  The police officer on staff gave the driver a hard time because he was blocking something.  Well, if his postal worker hadn't run over my husband we wouldn't NEED a wheelchair van.  But I didn't say that. 

We rode around for an hour, it is a shared ride service, it is to be expected sometimes.  We finally turned onto our street.  We are in the paratransit van that is decorated with their logo of the man in the wheelchair.  And there is a police car in front of our house, blocking our driveway. 

First thought, something is wrong with the house.  I looked.  The front of the house looked fine.  Second thought, why is the officer parked in front of MY house? 

I see he is there for #6.  They have ongoing "false alarm" issues so it is probably that.  The officer does not seem to be stressed, like something bad happened.  He is laconic. 

He stands there watching the wheelchair van, clearly wanting to go in our driveway, but blocked by his police car.  Ron punches the garage door remote, the door starts rolling up.  He turns and looks at that, then looks back at us. 

The light has apparently not dawned.  Wheelchair van trying to get in our driveway + opening garage door + his car blocking the driveway = ???

I curse, and tell the driver to stop, we will unload Ron in the street.  I am pretty ticked.  I really don't like it when people block my driveway.  I like it even less when they play head games about moving.  I'm not [censored]ing with their damned head, why do they have to play with mine? 

Plus, Ron still has to pee. 

I got out.  I have been told I have "strong" body language when I am angry so he knows I'm upset.  He looks at me and looks back at the driveway.  The light is slowly dawning. 

"Do you need me to move?" 

I didn't say any of the first half-dozen things that came to mind.  I just pointed at the cab.  "I need to get a man in a wheelchair" point at garage "Into there.".  He looks at me.  The sun has finally come up. 

"All you had to do was ask me to move" he said, sarcastically.  I take my pills for this very reason:  I was able to ignore him and focus on getting Ron into the house without getting into an argument.   Ron wanted to say something to him, but I wouldn't let him.  We get into it with the officer, guaranteed we will end up on the bad end of it. 

I rolled Ron in the garage.  If I could have slammed the garage door, I would have.  I got Ron in the house.

I took a nap.  I woke up with a bad headache and took something, then we went to the Waffle House.  We are in between 2 stores and we wanted to try the closer one.  It was very nice, clean, friendly, well prepared food.  I would be happy going there. 

I ate and took my pills.  Ron said he didn't want anything.  He spends most of his calories on vodka.  But, as time passed, he decided he wanted a grilled cheese.  He ordered one and ate it while waiting. 

He didn't want to spent an hour and a half at the restaurant, and that's how paratransit was going to leave us, so he called Arturo to come get him.  I thought it would take forever, being rush hour, but it actually didn't take long at all.  Arturo: "I took the back roads". 

Ron had trouble getting into the cab so I gave him a moderate shove, as if I were kidnapping him.  He thanked me.  Once everything was inside I shut the door, went around, and got in on my side. 

It was a pretty painless ride home.  We paid Arturo, got the wheelchair out of the trunk (well, he did), got Ron un-stuffed, and stuffed him in the wheelchair. 

The whole time at the restaurant, I kept worrying we had lost something.  It was pretty worrisome.  But I found it when we got in the house. 

Biscuit put his paw on my leg, while I was on the computer, with claws ever so slightly extended.  Just a reminder it was dinner time.  I fed him (and Baby Girl), while Torbie sat next to Ron in bed. 

Ron decided to "punish" me by "making" me work tomorrow.  Because I forgot to put something in the fridge, on Monday, because I was too busy running around helping him.  Petty and stupid, but the machine will be happy for the attention and I can do a good inventory. 

What Ron forgot is that, by doing this "to me" he is also doing it to himself.  And paratransit is already saying they are going to leave us there a lot longer than he wanted.  [sigh]  I hate these petty little games. 

I don't mind working, if they need filling I will fill them, but using work as a club to beat me?  That's a new low for him. 

At home, I decided to use up the last of my beef stock (I only used 3 cups, of a quart, making stew) on some lentils.  I got my new, hopefully fresh, lentils out and measured a cup, put them in a zip lock bag.  Then I added the last cup of stock to them so they can soak.  I will cook them tomorrow with some salt, pepper, garlic, onion, and cut up potatoes (the good kind).  I still have a pound and a half of "good" potatoes so I want to use them up. 

I wasn't happy with my last version of lentils and potatoes, this one should be better. 

If nothing else it is a cheap experiment.