Seems like I'm only able to write these entries when drunk at work. Appropriate, I suppose. The elucidation of the inebriated coupled with the paranoia of the drunk. Rather fine definition of Huntington's Disease, no?
Whatever I write now is going to be riddled with errors and in-coherency - because of the booze - also, at any moment someone could stop by my office and call me out for drinking on the job. Not a safe place. I loathe the though of revisiting this post, yet I'm compelled to write it because the disease is progressing sharply now. The lead domino is quivering and one ragged breathe can send it a tumble. My lips are sealed against this inevitability, but my fingers can still type....
Oh Jesus. Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Stephen King all wrote their best while in the bag. Me, I'm just going to fuck this up again. Shamefully. MW deserves better. Better all around.
***
Circumstances have been remarkably shitty these past few weeks. Holidays, winter storms, cooped up at home - it has been a slice of hell. First NYD and the subsequent Casa Muncie Flood. The following week I had to take more time off to help clean the house - a futile effort. Which brings us to MLK day - more time off and away from work; the only place I have left to recoup and relax away from the constant dementia. And I'm no racist, but on that loathsome Monday, while I was stuck at home, being subjected to the inexorable hatred and punishment coming from MW's tongue, I silently cursed the man. Fuck you, MLK! Why why why? Isn't my life hard enough - now I gotta put up with another 24 hours of bullshit just because you're some kind of great man. I've got your great man hanging low, Bitch.
Then check this out: right on the heels of that wretched "holiday" comes Winter Storm Irma. Oh my fucking God. Two more days trapped in the house with cold madness seeping in every crack. Note that I'd only squirrelled away enough secret booze to last through the originally planned long weekend. Tuesday and Wednesday were dry as the desert. Painful. Sober. Tired and depressed.
Finally, back at work today. Drunk - as I should be. But also able to breath. And relax. Find a little bit of peace for a moment. Yes, the weekend is coming too soon. I feel ill thinking on it. At least I'll be able to replenish my vodka stash. That'll help.
***
Enough pissing and moaning - here's the real story:
I'm a miserable bastard, a worthless husband, I mock those who depend on me and hate myself with one pitiable qualifier: Maybe MAYBE I'm doing the right thing. But if I am, it still feels so fucking wrong. I rather suspect I'm just not man enough to actually do what needs to be done.
Most of the time I've had off during these past few weeks has been spent "helping" MW look for a job. What this means is that she'll scour the internet for leads, then make me apply for her because she has a hard time filling out forms. So okay. I apply. The she'll get phone or internet - or rarely in person - interviews which never go well. And she'll get rejection notices which I down-play. "It's not you - it's them."
Absolutely ridiculous and really, really cruel. I allow MW to go out and humiliate herself - Oh, I know the people who interview her think she's drunk or drugged out or something. When I hear her on the phone with potential employers, she's all over the map; mispronouncing or misusing words and not making a lick of sense. Then, after they pass her over, she'll ask me what she'd done wrong and I'll say "Nothing. They probably already had someone in mind for the job - they just have to interview other people for legality"
Pathetic. Heartless. What am I doing? How can I condone this behavior? I feel sick and evil; enabling MW to continue on this way. She's always been prideful - she would hate me if she knew I was lying.
Well. She hates me anyway. What's the difference?
I guess it's a question of how much I hate myself. Sure, she's said she "never wants to know" if she has the disease; so that's why I don't fuss about spending every waking hour serving the disease at home. It owns us; so what? Around the house, that's fine - but now I'm sending her out into the world, giving her hope that she can regain employment. Right. On the off chance she could make it through an interview, there is no way she could be trained for the actual work. They would let her go within the week. Probably not even that long.
Look, she can't even fill out a simple form on the internet. How could she possibly handle taking instructions from an employer?
***
As if that wasn't bad enough; MW is also taking two more classes from our local community college. Last semester I did all of the work in her on-line class - I got an A! but she did have to go to a typing class. Again, I did all of the take home homework, but, credit where due, she went to class. And got an A.
That was just a typing class, however, and this semester she's enrolled in a computer basics class. I don't see that going well.
She's also taking an on-line business math class. I'm sure I'll get an A in that, but how does this help?
It doesn't.
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