Strike two

26 11 2012

A few days passed, and when I went to take out the trash (because someone else had failed to do it after being asked 3 times) there were several empty bottles of vodka and torn up wine casks (cheap cheap stuff) in the outside bin.    I had to catch my breath, although I felt I could breathe fire.

We started what would become a little routine over the ensuing weeks.  I would walk into the room with an upbeat demeanour for the girls to mask the silent scream trapped in my chest.  I would then direct Mort to “come and have a word with me”….he would then give me this slightly bewildered look and with much deep sighing and eye rolling follow me out of the room.

We would then walk back into the bedroom (I would close door behind us) and then I would perch myself on the edge of the bed while he sat (lower) on the sofa facing it.  This became the equivalent of the ‘naughty corner’ as I glared at him and almost bruised myself with how tightly I folded my arms.

He vehemently denied having anything to do with the empty bottles saying that he hadn’t had a drink in days and simply couldn’t imagine how they got there. Someone else must have put it there. (yes, I am sure that someone came up our recessed driveway to jump our fence and stash their debris into our bin).

I started to get the giggles.  As I have previously pointed out in stressful situations I tend to laugh, besides the fact that this was so absurd that he would sit there and deny the bottles.  He read it wrong and thought that I had given up on the quest of the truth and found it all funny, he got a smile on his face thinking that he was off the hook….mistake.

I was about to completely unleash when there was a knock on the door by the girls asking to have a swim in the pool.  He was momentarily saved.  I volunteered up Mort as he needed to be engaged with the girls and I needed a minute to myself to process what was going on.  He was no doubt wishing he’d taken the trash out in the first place.

I took the girls up to their room to get changed, but then there was something that I needed to grab back in my closet.  When I walked back Mort had a large bottle of water and he had quickly concealed something in his top drawer.  I instantly felt my heartbeat behind my eyes and when I opened my mouth a voice akin to Darth Vadar came out, “what are you doing.”  When I was answered with a blank expression I also had the strength of Darth to push Mort out of the way and open the drawer.  Surprise guess what I found…….vodka bottle.

The realization that he was filling his water bottle with vodka to take the girls for a swim was untterly incomprehensible.  I wanted to scream, punch, swear (ok I did swear) but I was exceptionally calm as I said “pack your bag and get the fuck out.”

photo courtesy: http://blog.kenexa.com/theres-no-crying-in-australia-say-on-pay-strike-two/

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Itchy and scratchy

13 11 2012

A couple of days after Mort arrived home from his hotel “grounding”, an invoice arrived in the mail.  He had settled the bill for his accommodation but there was this bill itemized for $500 bed.  WTF.  When asked about it he said that his eczema had really flared up and he had scratched so badly that he had bled through to the bed.

I had washed my fair share of sheets where he had smeared some blood from scratching but never so much that it went through to the mattress….but given that his skin was the worst that I had ever seen it, I bought the story, after all I had a lot of other things to be far more concerned about. Didn’t really know what happened till later.

It did however present a perfect opportunity for me to point out yet again that there was a direct link between the condition of his skin (which drove him crazy and he was very self-conscious about) and how much he must be drinking.  I said that his body was clearly toxic and he needed to get control of this immediately (for reasons far more serious than discomfort or vanity ie. losing his family)

I told him that he needed to go to AA.  He outright refused.  His sister had gone to AA many years before (now 20+ years sober) and he couldn’t stand how she had blamed everyone else for her alcoholism and took no responsibility for herself and her actions. He could not bear the self-obsession of the alcoholic mind.  (If you have read my earlier posts, and coming into my later, you will get a gist of  how ironic this becomes).

What I was starting to get a feel for here was the fact that this was becoming something beyond a guy having a few too many drinks, this was actually coming into a very serious place….a place beyond my control……a toxic place….and that was making me itchy and scratchy.

Season 2: Episode 9. Original airdate: December 20, 1990.





Sashiburi

12 11 2012

Well now that was hardly fair…..taking you to the brink of the story and then leaving you there to hang.

What is the adage, if you want something done give it to a busy woman?  Well that would be me and I somehow keep putting my hand up to take things on, unfortunately for that my blog sat lonely and neglected.

We had a Japanese exchange student that was in Clare’s school, staying with us for the last few weeks.  So instead of just looking after my two, there was this extra child with English as a second language and who didn’t know our routine.  I was constantly asking; have you had enough to eat? do you want to take a shower? are you warm enough? do you need me to wash your clothes?  She was also terribly homesick for the first week so it took alot of energy to ensure that not only was she fed and bathed but that her spirit was well nurtured.

So when I would finally get everyone to bed for the evening I would have about a minute and a half to myself to ponder my next post but then my eyelids would win the fight.

She has now returned home, routine is restored (although I keep coming across Hello Kitty stickers in the oddest places) and my fingers are itching to hammer out the story.

I am shooting for 3 posts a week.  A friend of mine said, “but won’t you speed through telling the story that way,” to which I pointed out that in real-time this story is now two years in unfolding and has not yet ended (insert deep sigh/groan/guttural howl here).

So see you again tomorrow night for the next (and well overdue) installment.

ps – the title of this post is “long time no see” in Japanese, felt that was appropriate!

 

photo credit:hellokittymania.net23.net