Sigh. Our first go-round. I told him he would resume pulling English ivy outside, beginning tomorrow. No big deal. In fact, easier than usual, because our landscaper came and totally cleaned the yard two days ago--removed debris from storms, cut back all the big stalks of lilies and little bunches of lariope, all that. And you can really see the ivy and it's much easier to get at now.
It has been one of his chores, since he stole roughly $6,000 of jewelry from me. He flat-out refused, raised his voice, argued and argued and I quietly went to the cupboard and got 1/2 a clonidine. He argued about that of course.
He said I couldn't make him take anything.
I said, "But I can take away privileges."
"Like WHAT!"
"Sending home D." (His girlfriend, who was standing right there, calm as a cucumber, as though we weren't arguing at all and he wasn't being totally disrespectful and impudent, among other things.)
"Fine." He grabbed some orange juice and took the 1/2 clonidine.
I said something about him coming home early--his curfew on weekends is 10, but he noticed that one of the dogs was out and he offered to go get him. Turned out the dog had dug a hole under the fence, scooted on his belly, and wandered off. Luckily, it was in a part of the yard where we were able to see him through the window.
He said he wanted to wait until spring to pull the ivy. I told him it would be too late and we had to get it now, before it started to spread again. I would be helping. All he had to do was 10-15 min. a day.
I went back to painting and used a paint-covered rag to dry my tears.
And this is just the first day.
I'm back to using desmopressin, and chastising him for drinking so much, so late at night.
