I'm having a day of retreat, reflection and general penance. I'm sorry that it's raining today. Monkey is on his first ever school field trip and I'm hoping the excitement of riding the big bus will outweigh the fact that he's likely to come home with pneumonia. I'm sorry that after an extended breakfast-time detailing of today's plans my daughter still felt it necessary to insist to school officials that I was picking her up today, necessitating a phone call home to verify that no, she is to take the bus. Mostly I'm sorry that I have so little grip on how to communicate with that child. I'm...
True to his word, my ex delivered the goods this evening. We were all quite amused; and for a moment--as the kids and I giggled and flipped through the dozen or so poses he'd put the puppy through on the copier--I had a sudden glimpse of the man he used to be, and the family we once were. Then I realized my wistful moment was a byproduct of stuffed animal porn. That helped to put the nostalgia in perspective.
(Or, And now for something completely different.) The ex took the kids to swim lessons today, and when he brought them back he helped me take out the air conditioners. Then we went through a ton of stuff in the basement and he crammed his car full with a load of boxes. (Yes, he moved out over a year and a half ago. Speed is not one of his attributes.) He even disposed of a dead mouse for me (another one). He was helpful, and polite, and downright normal. It's a little disconcerting, but I'll take it. Wonders never cease.
So, um, where was everybody last night? I cannot believe that my jovial party invitation didn't yield more takers. Go figure. As always, my true love Kira was on hand. This is why she is my true love. And while I was happy to wallow, I find that hard to do when Kira is around. She brings out the best in me. If by the best, you mean the penchant for heartlessly having fun at someone else's expense, of course. [We have some conversation about my daughter, and my frustration therein.] genericmir: And I wish the ex would DIE. genericmir: I'm going to hell. kiwords: LOL genericmir: LOL...
I fear that I can blog no more, for there is no way to top the information divulged in my last post. That was the pinnacle of my comedy career (and, technically, I didn't even have to write the funny part!). I should just stop now, because what would be a logical follow-on to that?? Nothing. Oh, except maybe selected excerpts from his entire profile? Yeah, that might be good. Also the part where his lower age bracket for women is thirteen years younger than himself (ikky! ikky!), but still, no. I've had my fun at his expense. What I will share is this: there's a very good reason why I was...
So I was chatting with my dear Jilbur this fine evening, and she asked me for my zip code. I gave it, along with a snarky comment about how she must be sending me a sympathy card (it's been that kind of a day). Nope, no card. What she offered, instead, was a link to Match.com profiles for available men in my area. Now that, dear readers, would've been scary enough. Some of those pictures reminded me that I am indeed a stranger in a strange land. Heh. But the ultimate horror was not to present itself until later, as I continued to page through with a mixture of fear and fascination. I...
I'm rich! I'm rich! The ex came to pick the kids up for swimming lessons, this morning, and brought me the child support check. Only three days late. Let's go blow it all on fast living and shiny things! Or, you know, the mortgage. Either way. I'm flexible. My ex has never missed a child support payment. Neither has he ever once paid me on time. It's a charming little tribute to his passive aggressive tendencies. I always get the money, but I always have to remind him. Have I mentioned that I'm really, really looking forward to being gainfully employed again?
Okay, I'm over the whole Tragic Biking Accident thing, now. Thank you for your comments. Special thanks to my Dad for reminding me about the incident where my finger was slammed in a car door upon our arrival at a cast party. Yep, I did the silent scream in a Friendly's parking lot, and won a trip to the ER, and lived to tell the tale. (Parents know the silent scream; the longer it lasts, the greater the chance of serious injury.) That hurt like hell; but in looking back, now, all I really think about is wanting a Fribble. Mmmmmm... Fribbles. So I'm okay, as are the kids. Monkey did his...
And let's just get it out of the way up front: I know this makes me look shallow and bitter and hag-like. I'm okay with that. It's too good not to share. On the heels of a perfectly pleasant chat with The Ex Who Continues To Boggle My Mind, I have new information on his MOB (Mail Order Bride). He allowed as how it was probably natural and normal that I had some questions about the lady in his life, and I should go ahead and ask. So I did. Hold on to your hats, folks. Everything you never wanted to know about the ex and his MOB: They met through some people he works with. Well that's nice....
