Ron drinks in his wheelchair. If he gets drunk enough he falls out.
His wheelchair has a seatbelt. I have, in the past, used it to secure Ron in the chair when he looked "iffy".
I thought about it today but decided against it, let sleeping dogs lie, and a little let him get what he deserves. Always going to be honest here even when it makes me look bad. He can be combative/abusive, and most likely, quite angry at me when he sobered up and found himself restrained. It didn't seem worth the price.
I went in the back room to talk to my parents because I knew talking would wake Ron up and he could become belligerent. The whole eggshell thing when he's drunk. I try to present a wholesome, reasonably happy front and figured he would wreck it.
So we talked. As we talked Mom asked if I had fastened the seatbelt for Ron. I said no and then had to justify. She was nice about it but I did get a little whiff.
As we were talking, Ron suddenly began shouting. I ran up front as they decided now was a great time to end the call. I put the phone down. Ron was over by the front door shouting at a bag of trash I had placed, to go out later.
As a rule, Ron never goes by the front door unless he is having a blackout. I asked him what he wanted. To go back to bed. I took him. He tried to stand up and couldn't. The seatbelt was fastened. I didn't do it, but he did.
I helped him unfasten it and got him into bed. He was pretty belligerent.
I went in the kitchen to make myself a lemonade and found the floor very sticky. I then realized Ron had dropped a (plastic, thank God) bottle of vodka on the floor. Strawberry vodka, no doubt loaded with sugar. All over my modest kitchen. I found the half-full (yup, still an optimist) uncapped bottle of vodka and picked it up. For once, I did handle alcohol, I capped it and put it in the fridge.
I told Ron about it, he was quite upset. Yelling at God, of all things. How is it God's fault that Ron got drunk and dropped his bottle of vodka? Not even his last?
I couldn't leave it like that. So I told Ron I would have to mop. I swept the tile floor and made up a bucket of mopping solution. The lysol clean and fresh multi-surface cleaner works well with the cats. Torbie is allergic to Swiffers. I began mopping. The cleanser had a nice lemon scent. I like lemon. Ron doesn't object.
Now, lavender? He'd have a hissy fit. I mopped all the tile but gave special focus to the kitchen. I have been lax about sweeping the tile,and a lot of cat hair got trapped by the vodka and made a mess. I got all that up.
In the meantime, Ron checked his trips and said I made good ones, he was very pleased. Well, someone had to do it, and I basically told him that.
Then I went back to mopping. It isn't spotless but it looks better and there are germ killers in the cleanser. I am happy. The floor isn't sticky.
I just checked our trips and Ron snuck in a trip to and from the buffet place. He must have really liked them. I can always find something to eat at a buffet. I just wish they didn't put onion in all the salad!
So I got the floor and I made sure we had the stuff we need to go to the bank tomorrow, after work. I get paid at the end of the week (I mentioned that). The cats have loads of food and treats, water fountains working great. I got some cute photos of the cats today, I will have to post them.
I got my workout today, too. And a shower, not bad for a depression. And did the accounting work. And cleaned. And did laundry.
Wait, I thought it was my day off? No, I'm a wife. I don't get days off! :P
I just have to remember to pay the water bill tomorrow.
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