Do you remember my last divorce?
I started blogging afterward, but then he found it and got very angry that I wrote about him, even though I called him EX, and threatened to sue me.
I would love to blog this time, but I know his mother reads it and tells him what I am saying. I’ve been waiting for the divorce to be final. As thought that will be the clear line of my new found FREEDOM. I guess really that is just a day with a number on it and the day I declared myself single was actually October 2nd of last year.
October 2nd is the day I went home and told him we needed to talk about co-parenting and that he had to find a place to live.
October, November, December, January, February, March, April —— wait, why is all his stuff still in my house? Why are his pictures still on the walls? Why hasn’t he packed anything? Why is he living in the bedroom of the convict son of the local drug dealer?
All good questions. So I had him sign a paper that said anything left in my house by May 1st would be mine.
April 30th shows up so fast that he has no time to find a place to put his stuff. He comes to the house with “a friend” who gets bit by my dog who is chained to the porch. The friend leaves and this Ex has tears in his eyes when he shares this story and says he has no one to help him move and no place to put his things because the friend got mad at him. “I didn’t have time to set anything up.”
He left piles of crap in my house. Just like the teenagers when they moved out. Despite my request to not leave me a mess. Here is a list so far of things I have to bag up and get rid of:
- A bag of used doorknobs
- a bag of dead light bulbs
- a bag of wooden wedge shapes
- 6 cans of insect killer
- 2 empty bottles of insect repellent
- 5 empty paint cans
- a 20 year old remote control truck
- 3 dirty empty coffee containers
- 24 crumpled receipts
- chainsaw grease
- a cardboard box with various pieces of thick cardboard cut into odd shapes
- 2 empty water bottles
- 5 different plastic tubs with screws and nails and trash in them
- a big stuffed tiger’s head sewed to a sock
- retirement paperwork
- 3 toolboxes full of crap
- 2 empty oil containers
- a kirby vacuum head from a vacuum we had 8 years ago
- used sandpaper
- a socket set and case strewn everywhere
- some netting of some kind
- a diaper box with everything from the car he put in the river, mostly just trash
- a bucket of electronic parts that had to be trash and looked like something he took a sledge hammer to and put in a bucket
- rusty ski poles
- a dirty role of toilet paper
- 6 plastic shopping bags
- a large think piece of cardboard with a sword drawn on it
- a styrofoam piece that he cut like a kick board and colored
- 2 vices
- old pieces of metal pipe, plumbing parts, rusting whatevers
I have not finished. It is taking me weeks. I still have the area under the work bench that smells like cat pee to deal with. And pay to dump. And sneeze at the dust. And scream at the spider bodies.
By the way, I was the one who took his clothes and dresser and things out of the bedroom. I think he thought he still had a chance of staying as long as his things lived with me. Pfffffftttttttt.