Which doesn't mean I don't think about it!
At the VA we got some cool stuff done. I worked with a couple of veterans with a couple of issues; I have a letter to write tomorrow for one, and the other I suggested meeting at the Saturday DAV meeting when he would have more papers. This is progress.
|Touring the space|
Afterwards, in casual conversation Lisa mentioned that they have a CLC in American Lake which I should tour, and did we want to consider them in our various projects as well? I mentally slapped my forehead - this is so obviously the right idea - and it's also an opportunity to reach out to a wider community. That comment alone was worth the trip. In retrospect, I see also that Lisa was offering that someone give me or us a tour of that facility so we'd see more of what was needed - I need to take up this offer asap because it could make a big difference in planning.
Home, I got a few projects worked on and then zipped over to the Y for Zumba. It really is a fun exercise! I stopped at the library on the way back, so as to give Kris a little totally alone time with the house, but in retrospect this may have been an error. She had done some serious drinking by the time I got back. She was talking the way she does when drunk, and was angry that I came in the front door.
The front door that I found, bought, and mounted (...mounted with help from Don; his help was paid for by whom? Me, of course.)
I nuked a little chicken and she asked if there was a problem with her mother's microwave. I took my chicken downstairs. Her question was literally stupid, that is, it came from her being in a stupor, because that microwave had been gone for a month; I had discussed this with her before disposing of it. She had been in the area several times, dropping off dishes, so I felt surprise that she didn't remember that the microwave was not there. But of course she had been drinking heavily. Was her memory bad, or was she just blurting things out in her rage? I don't know.
I Got To Clean It Up
She started swearing. Her swears are the standard entry-level swears: fuck, shit and so forth; she doesn't use that grandeloquent vocabulary when she's swearing drunk, she just uses what she probably heard as a child when her mother's latest boyfriend was abusing the family.
She ordered me into the basement and ordered me to use the back door, not the front door. I said this was my house and I would use either door. She asked if I wanted to talk to her lawyer about that, and I said fine. She kept raging but I had my dinner so I went downstairs.
It's all messy and sad, but when she hasn't been drinking it can be civil.
What I have to do is just not engage with her alcoholism; it's like fighting a Terminator:
"It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead."
Kris is not her alcoholism, just as I am not my nearsightedness. Just as I would still be I without my nearsightedness, Kris would still be Kris without her alcoholism. However, it's not as easy as buying a pair of glasses, because my nearsightedness does not care if I deal with it. Alcoholism, on the other hand, fights back. And it is used to winning.