July 24, 2013
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We Have A Big Argument
TALES FROM THE BRAT FARM
The Beast was cranky as hell today and wanted sympathy from me because his muscles were really bothering him (or so he wanted me to believe). His problem is that he doth protest too much (and makes too many grunting and groaning sounds that increase in volume until it gets the response he wants).
He picked a bad time, actually, because my left foot is really hurting and I think I need to get into the doctor because I believe the big toe might actually need some antibiotics. It’s not swollen (thankfully) but that damn blood blister I had from Baron stepping on it the way he did just hasn’t seemed to heal right and is very sensitive to touch.
I discover how damn sensitive it is when I wake up to go to the bathroom. Shortly after that, the Beast comes in here and he can’t lift either leg enough to put on his pants. I asked the hard question…..What happened to sitting down to put your pants on? His reply? Ignore the question.
Then I have to put his socks and shoes on him. At least the shoes have velcro closures. But all of this is to garner empathy for him from me. Sorry. Not today when the foot is really tender and makes walking difficult.
Since I didn’t do whatever it was HE wanted, later on he comes screaming into my computer room about *cleaning up the kitchen*. Since I knew it wasn’t dirty or even messy, I yelled right back at him not to try to take it out on me just because HE felt crappy. Since he had slammed my door on me, I (of course) just kept coming at him. I told him where the big bear shits in the woods and why I would NEVER go to church with him. It was, of course, because I have seen NO change in his attitude towards me although he continued his mask when it came to others who didn’t know the REAL him. I told him if he got really bad or ever hit me, I would be sure to involve his pastor. However, after thinking about that one, I thought it probably wouldn’t do me any good since they all believe a wife should be in subjection to her husbahnd and ANY man. Another reason I want no part of that church.
I also told him that God knew his HEART and there would be no fooling HIM no matter how many others he might fool. That’s when he started calling me a drunk and saying I could go ahead and rot in my computer room with my drinks. I turned to him and said, *Beast, drop that crap. It might have worked years ago but it sure as hell won’t work now.* He did shut up after that but I know he didn’t like it. He knows he can’t hurl that shit at me any more. He can’t even prove I drink any more unless the Princess has been telling him when SHE gets some for me. Even then, it certainly isn’t enough for me to ever be drunk. If she’s told him, I will be very heartbroken and will consider that she is a traitor since she knows how he is, especially since he can no longer drink and KNEW that HE was a functional alcoholic before his strokes.
However, he was an alcoholic that was having blackouts. I always had four drinks (at times, five) and then came home. I knew my weight and the time and came home to make food for us all. He, however, would stay until damn near closing time when he could barely stand up. How he made it home without killing someone or himself, I have no idea. The bartenders often tried to give him a ride home but he would refuse. He wouldn’t even take a cab. I thought all that was water-over-the-dam but he threw it out and at me when I was never as bad as he was. Honestly. At his best, he would come home and head straight to bed. At his worse, he would come home, tell me he knew what I was thinking and that’s when he would beat me up. For a while at least, until I stopped being so terrified of him. Trust me, before his stroke, he was strong!
Well, love you all. Sorry to lay this on you. I really didn’t want to get into so much detail. Have a wonderful day and drive carefully. Oh, and please….stay cool!
