BLOLO or You can't say sorry and make it go away

I am pretty furious today. 

AGAIN, last night, Ron passed out in the wheelchair.  I was fine about that other than a mild concern about his back.  I went to bed, Torbie joined me, Biscuit was running in/out his cat cage and having a good time.  I wanted to get up at 4.  I went to bed about quarter to 8. 

And Ron wakes up.  Shouting gibberish and demanding me, I got up and went to investigate.  He was still in his wheelchair, shouting BLOLO again and again, getting progressively more upset I didn't understand him.  It was very upsetting for me, and him. 

I finally left him and went back to bed, he cursed at me for a while, screaming invective at me.  Last night I was a "fat bitch".  He kept asking me if I was hungry, and telling me to "go eat".  Just really rude and offensive. 

Suddenly, he could speak.  [rolleyes]  I wasn't angry at the words as much as I was the fact he was being ugly, hateful, and trying to hurt me.  He was also intent on disrupting my sleep last night, again. 

He KNOWS I need my sleep.  He knows it goes badly for me when sleep deprived.  That's what made me angry.  Not his little curses and trying to poke at my soft spots, when he is drunk he is no good at that.  He is just offensive but I don't allow it to be hurtful.  But sleep deprivation is used as torture because it works. 

I heard a crash, I figured he had fallen out of the wheelchair onto the floor.  I decided to leave him down there until he sobered up enough to get into bed.  I checked on him after a while, he said he was "fine".  He kept up a steady racket as the time got later, and later. 

Then he said he would start doing the yelling thing again at "1 or maybe 2 AM, PLEASANT DREAMS!" 

I ignored him.  Later on he started coughing heavily.  I wasn't surprised, his floor is filthy.  It went on for a little bit and I felt convicted to offer him some water.  I did, he said no.  He was still on the floor.  I asked him if he wanted help into bed, he said no.  I went to sleep. 

He keeps all his clean clothes draped over the back of a chair in his room.  He uses the chair to help him get up and to brace when he uses the urinal.  At some point he knocked the chair, and all the clothes, over onto the floor.  I didn't hear it, I was so tired. 

Biscuit got in and out of bed with me, but mostly in.  I always enjoy having him around.  Torbie was there, too.  Pretty crowded!  It's probably a good thing Baby Girl won't sleep with me or I'd have no room at all.  I always sleep pretty well if it's quiet and I have the cats. 

I woke up on time this morning and got up.  Ron was awake, and sober.  I asked him what the hell BLOLO meant, he said it meant "Be on the Lookout" - he must have gotten that from one of his books, and twisted it.  I asked what relevance it had to him screaming the phrase at me again and again, and cursing me out, falling on the floor, throwing his clothes on the floor, etc.  He had no excuse.  Just that he had been drinking. 

I told him he had better stop, because I don't do well sleep deprived.  He mumbled some excuse and I said this was the SECOND night in a row, I do not do well sleep deprived, there was no excuse to do it, etc.  I think he was surprised how angry I was, but I can only take so much.  I told him this asinine "I'm going to shout and keep you up all night" crap had better stop. 

He mumbled something about how it is hard to be him - I told him he had it easy compared to most.  He doesn't even work full time, he has a full time assistant, all his needs are met, he can go out to eat, "free" transportation, etc.  Then he mumbled how he wished he could leave the (business) program. 

"What would you do?" I asked.  Because I'm not going to support him just lying around and drinking all day.  He said he reckoned he didn't know, but it would "be nice". 

No one WANTS to work, but they do it because they have to.  If you want to eat out, have nice things to break when you're drunk, have your vodka for that matter, you need to pay for all of that and that requires money, which requires working. 

It is childish, and petty, to say "I want to throw it all away, lie around and drink, while Heather and the taxpayers support me".  Because, guess what - Heather is NOT supporting you in that scenario. 

I used to think a nursing home was the worst thing that could happen to him.  Now I am looking at it in a different light - if he becomes too much to handle - poof OFF he goes.  After years of chronic, endemic, abuse I am pretty burnt out. .

Now I need to go take a shower and become presentable for work.  I will let you know how the new socks work out. 

I hope you are having a better Monday than I.