The weekend wasn't too bad; Spencer and I had Saturday together, though he continued his drinking from Friday night, and I got my own six-pack of Miller Chill. We spent the first half of the day sleeping, did some yard work, then some needful errands, came back to the house, cooked a pizza and watched television.
Sunday morning, Spencer slept in, and I nursed a terrible self-inflicted headache from my six-pack. I'm such a dumb-ass, to drink even that much, but at the time, with the lime flavor, they tasted so good. I willed myself to not throw up, slept a little more with ice on my head, was able to manage running a few errands, came back and mowed part of the lawn, and played online.
Spencer went back over to Kip's that afternoon and said he was going to spend the night, so as not to disturb me on a work night. Well, at about 1:30 in the morning he calls twice to say he's on his way home. As I'm now already awake, I watch for him so he won't have to hunt his key. If it weren't so sad, seeing him toddle around the corner, just a-wobbling along, it might have been comical.
After I let him in, we had a typical argument and I tried to go to bed. I made it into bed, but then Spencer had to "talk", which means ramble on. His biggest complaint last night being how much pain his legs are in. [We think he's developed a bad case of sciatica, but can't get to a doc anytime soon.] And how he thinks no one cares, da da da. Even though I can't feel his pain, I do understand that he's in pain. But I can't do anything about it and he doesn't get that. If there was some way for him to earn a couple hundred dollars, we could get him started at a chiropractor. I keep telling him to put ice on his legs, but he refuses because it makes him have to go pee. I'd think he'd take a few extra pisses if it helped him feel better. After our lengthy fussing, he finally left me alone in bed and went to sleep on the couch.
Anyway, this evening, Monday, Spencer is back at Kip's, helping him set up his new computer, and I hope he keeps his word that he won't drink since we have a counseling appointment in the morning.
Either way I'll go, but he needs it just as much as I. And after writing this entry, it's easier to see what a repetitive rut we're in. It could be any Monday in our lives over the past 10 years.
I'd apologize to Dear Reader for the boring content, but I think this is what life is like for most of us. Living, loving, working, bearing crosses, rinsing, and repeating.
'Evening,
~Pym
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