My husband was drunk pretty much all the time toward the end of his life. He wasn't working. I got up, went to work, came home. I never saw him in the morning. By the time I came home, he was drunk. Sometimes not too noticeably, sometimes he was so far gone he had to stand with his knees slightly bent to keep his balance. One night I saw him staring at something in the kitchen. I asked if he was okay, he said yeah, just trying to figure something out. What is it, I asked? "The toaster."
He couldn't figure out the toaster.
I got so I pretty much didn't speak to him unless I was spoken to. When he did say something, I said something non-committal like "Uh huh." I found that even saying I agreed with him could start an argument, because he'd change his mind about what he said to start a fight. So it was hard, but I learned not to react or comment. I didn't even start meaningless conversations about the weather or work or anything. I'd either get frustrated at telling him something we'd already gone over, or we get into a fight.