Why is it that alcoholics create more drama than middle school children? One would think they would sit in the corner and guzzle booze until they puked, passed out, or both, but noooooo. One would think they might have an ounce of self respect and would therefore keep their daily tragedy, crisis, end of the world bullshit to themselves, but of course not. Every alcoholic I know isn’t happy unless everyone is sucked into their toxic lives. I’m getting ready to bring out the baseball bat. I shit you not.
I have Mondays and Thursdays off. I use Mondays to recover from Sundays, and I don’t do much other than wash all my bedding, and my dishes and maybe brush my hair. Thursdays I go to Cody, do all of my shopping for the week, do all my laundry, clean the house, mow the lawn or whatever needs doing. Thursday is a work at the house day. I have a routine and in true OCD fashion, I don’t like my routine changed, altered, spindled, stapled, or mutilated.
Since I didn’t sleep well last night I puttered around the house until late afternoon before I left for Cody. When I was about 10 miles away, I got a call from Bagheera asking if I could come to work at 5 since Betty Booze was having yet another crisis. I told her the best I could do was make it at 6, and that was only if I hauled ass.
I quickly did my shopping, didn’t even make my weekly stop for tacos, and hurried home. I threw all the perishables, bags and all, in the refrigerator, threw the non-perishables, bags and all, into the oven so the dogs couldn’t get them, brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and raced into town.
And who should I find sitting in the bar getting drunk? Betty Booze.
To say I flipped my shit is putting things mildly.
She came in the kitchen during my screaming, cussing, throwing things rant and tried to explain that her boyfriend’s son had been kidnapped and they were on their way to Lander (3 hours away) to get him, but first they needed to find someone to drive. Meanwhile, they were content to get shitfaced. Oh, and the kidnapping…he is with his mom, who has visitation rights for the summer. Kidnapped sounds so much more dramatic, though. They never did go get the kid.
Betty Booze is the type of drunk who won’t let something go and she needs people to understand that she’s right and everyone else is wrong. She accomplishes this by getting up in your face and repeating her story over and over and over until you black out from the sheer desire to choke her until her tongue turns purple. She knew I was dead pissed at her, (probably because I said, “Bitch, you better get the fuck outta my face”) so when she left the kitchen and went back to the bar, she had to tell everyone how mean I was and how unfairly I treated her. This went on for about an hour until King Triton got fed up with her shit, slapped her face and told her to leave. (I once watched a women slap the hell out of King Triton and he refused to defend himself and hit her back, so the idea of him slapping Betty Booze is mind boggling.)
After everyone fled the kitchen, I calmed down a little and made two outstanding pies. I made a coconut cream and a strawberry rhubarb, both from scratch (okay, I used store bought pie crusts). What’s even more amazing is it was the first time I used the recipes and both were great. I usually get recipes that take forever to make and taste like ass when they’re done, but these were simple and delicious. (allrecipies.com) I guess all was not lost.