I went to Vegas with the intention of hanging out in the casino with my husband, drink free.
I arrived, stitches hot from sitting on them for the entire ride, minus one quick trip to the only working rest stop along the way. I was sore and in need of a painkiller-it was Tuesday and I’d only just had the surgery on Friday.
We got checked in, got up to our room, Robert jumped in the shower, and as I sat on the bed looking forward to a couple of days of relaxation-my neighbor called to tell me that our oldest son left the men’s home already after staying less than 24 hrs. That kid knows how to shit all over everything. My relief and lightheartedness was replaced with dread. He was supposed to be in that home for a year-they’d let him live there as long as he didn’t use drugs. He couldn’t manage one full day.
Instead of spending time visiting with each other and having a calm two days together, we focused on the fact that he’s forced our hand. No more coming home for showers or food, no more loading up his phone with new music or checking his social media. And definitely no more hanging out next door in the garage where the police have been closely watching for months in order to gather enough information to raid it.
I had also planned to stay on my diet while in Vegas.
This was definitely not on my low carb diet.
At least not the hash browns and pancakes! I tried.
That evening we stayed down in the casino until late. We played blackjack until our luck and my wine ran out.
The next day we spent our time at the nearby outlets and walked a few laps and bickered back and forth. The stress of having an addict for a child dominates every aspect of your life if you let it. We’re still grappling with it-I don’t want our limited time together to be spent arguing over things of which we have no control. It’s not our fault-we didn’t cause this.
I’ve been trying to get him on this low carb diet with me. It’s difficult for a truck driver to follow any sort of healthy diet but he does have a refrigerator, and once he cleans out the ice cream, he’ll have room for bacon and pepperoni. I think he thinks I’m being pushy. I’m really not trying to be, but as (almost) every wife wants their husband to be healthy, I do try to give gentle nudges. He’d probably argue that they’re more like karate kicks to the groin but…I’m still me. I’m not the nicest, I suppose. I blame it on my humor-I have inherited too much of my dad’s sharp tongue.
We enjoyed looking at things we don’t normally. They have a store there, Le Creuset, which happens to be an outlet, as well. And while their entire store was 40% off, I can’t see myself ever spending over $300 on a cast iron pot. They were gorgeous and we had fun imagining our new kitchen full of these fancy items, and Robert loved teasing me about leaving rotten potatoes in them to sit outside until he dumped them for me (yes, I’ve done that more than I care to admit!) retching the entire time-he has a delicate stomach.
The colors were rich and I fell in love with the plum-colored collection they had. We discussed which color pepper mill we’d want and I told him it was up to him; I’m not the one that peppers everything. He’ll pepper food before he even tastes it-salt, too, but mainly pepper. He finds it strange that I don’t. It was nice to discuss housewares and idly pass the time. I miss him.
I liked these:
After the iHop breakfast that morning hit my stomach like a ton of bricks, I found myself hurrying to the restroom on more than one occasion and I have to ask-why can’t women manage to flush a toilet? I don’t understand it! Is it laziness, are they in so much of a hurry that they can’t possibly spare 30 seconds to step on a lever? These thoughts were going through my head as I tried to maneuver myself onto the seat without letting my stitches actually touch. That’s more difficult than it ought to be but considering the location, it’s my reality. Forget a toilet seat cover-I tried and spent too long trying to carefully remove wet tissue from my stitches when they became wet after flushing.
I lead an interesting life.
We made our way over to In-N-Out and Robert easily talked me into trying a lettuce wrapped 4×4. It’s four juicy beef patties with four slices of cheese wrapped in iceberg lettuce. Of course, we made it a combo that came with fries so it completely rendered the low carb burger useless, albeit, monstrously tasty!
I inhaled my burger and Robert kindly offered to eat my fries for me. I declined his offer.
We drove around the area imagining living in the newly built gated communities. I joked that we could move and not tell our oldest.
I left the next day and the trip home took an hour longer than usual because of an accident. I played cat and mouse with a Ram for many miles because he cut me off and while his big truck has a bigger engine, my lighter badass car can quickly overtake him. I took every opportunity to pass him. Jerk. I have to find ways to keep myself entertained because the drive along the 15 freeway is ugly and I can only shift my leg around so many ways to avoid sitting on my healing leg.
The kid has court tomorrow. We’ll see if he goes and if he does, if anything happens. I’m doubtful on the latter.