ILYT Confessions of a Serial Marrier Here'sthedeal

I mentioned earlier that I started hating drunks and then I confessed I had a drinking problem. That was a tease. I had a drinking problem but I was married to it. It was most assuredly my problem. Elsie had no problem with it at all. I did not look forward to coming home from work after 14 hours to find out that cocktail hour had started at 11:00 a.m. and continued until the store closed at 6:00 p.m. I wanted to have a conversation with someone who did not speak in one word sentences, "IamsorryIdrankalittletoomuchatleastwehavesomebeerinthefridgesoIdon'tlosemybuzz". That is the closest I can come to describing the slur

And the snoring that followed the drinking. MERCY! I had no idea people could make that noise. NO ONE ELSE ON EARTH SNORES THIS LOUD. I know you think I am incorrect, however, I present as my argument the following:

One evening in the spring or fall when you can sleep with the windows open and not die from the heat, you Texans know the three or days a year I am talking about, Elsie and I had the bedroom windows open. The neighbors called and asked us to close the window closest to their house because of the snoring.

I could get up, close the bedroom door, walk down the hall, close that door, lie on the sofa and pile pillows on my head and still hear the snoring.  Olympic Gold Medal Winning Snorer.

The drive to and from work was starting to kill me. Really, making me crazy. I needed a break somewhere in my life. I thought it would be nice if my husband and I sold the house WE were paying for and moved to the mid cities and split the drive to our work places. Elsie thought I should find another job in Fort Worth and then quit my job at Xerox. He was never leaving HIS house. His cold dead butt would be dragged from HIS house. 

I have been told that I can win any stubborn contest. Elsie is my equal. We dug in and went to war for years over many things. His drinking, my intolerance to his drinking, my bitchiness from being exhausted, his unwillingness to give an inch. I wasn't giving up my job and our benefits. He wasn't giving up being 16 and staying in his house forever.

Still I loved this man. I wanted to find a way to make this THIRD marriage work. I thought I could compromise but I found I was much, much better at bitchy. This marriage was going to work if it killed me, Elsie and anyone else who got in the way.  We were going to be happy, damn it. I will complain and whine until said happiness was ensured. He would drink more and more to make sure I had something to bitch about.

Little things began to make me wish I owned a gun. One night or early morning I awoke to the sound of running water. Must be a plumbing leak and it sounded like a big one. "Elsie", I said, "you hear that?'  no response.  "Elsie? where are you? what are you doing?"  A small voice said, "camping?". Nope, peeing in the corner of the bedroom. That didn't make me happy but I did find out what a near stroke feels like. "YOU ARE PISSING IN THE CORNER. STOP!!!".  "too late", said a tiny voice.

One spring we were so excited about vacation. We had a new Chevy Blazer and we were going to the mountains with cameras in tow. Leaving early Saturday morning to drive across West Texas without having to see much of it. Elsie came home and said, "here'sthedeal", standing and bobbing and weaving on his feet, "Iamgoingtopackthecarweareleavingtonight".  I explained that I was more likely to poke myself in the eye than get in a car and head across West Texas with him drunk as a skunk. "Youcandrive", he thought, perfect! No, I had been up since 3:30 or 4:00 a.m. and I was packing and sleeping, in that order.  "FineIwillleaveyouhere", said Elsie and he proceeded to pack the Blazer.

First we needed to take the Hibatchi just in case we were going to cook out in a National Forest. And that meant kindling. He packed the entire back end of the vehicle with sticks and tree limbs before he passed out. In the morning he couldn't figure out what happened to the truck.  Yeah! Let's drive across America!

Yes, my drinking problem was getting worse but my cocaine problem was just about to kill me.