First off, yes, that is my actual cat and the rabbit I caught in my backyard last week. If you’re just tuning in, please read about my bad week.
At this point, I think my cat, Cocoa, thinks the rabbit is a very boring cat. I still have said rabbit. I tried to find its rightful home. At this point, though, I am convinced that someone just dumped it out when they were tired of taking care of him. There is nothing wrong with this rabbit that I can tell, other than he makes a boring cat.
My life has been filled with drama, this past week a little less so than the week before. I’m dealing with a divorce, a car accident, trying to sell a house, and all the drama that comes from a man who is soon going to be my ex-husband.
Out of all the things, the most stressful thing is the man. Lawyers are small fish compared to my ex. Insurance companies are small fish. Selling a house is small fish. All of it is small fish, and potatoes, compared to the ex. Fish and potatoes are preferable actually.
The thing is, my ex is not a bad person. He’s not evil and he doesn’t go around kicking puppies, but there are qualities about him that make him a nightmare for someone like me. He’s controlling and he thinks things are supposed to go his way. When they don’t, he blames it on me. It’s all obviously my fault.
The divorce? My fault.
His unsavory habits? My fault.
His burning of a basket of mine because he didn’t like it? My fault.
Him leaving me a nasty voicemail because of a broken pipe at the house? My fault.
The Civil War? My fault, probably, according to his logic. He’s never actually said this one, but who knows…we have time.
Really, why not, everything else is my fault, why can’t The Civil War also be my fault? That would probably be a compliment actually; I wasn’t even alive then. You have to be pretty powerful to cause a war before you were even born.
Maybe he’s scared of my power. You know, some people say men don’t like powerful women…
How dare I have a basket that he doesn’t like! I caused The Civil War after all! He has to keep me in line, if I have one basket he doesn’t like, I might go off and cause another war or cast a spell to turn him gay, because, I think, that’s what he’s afraid of.
He probably secretly really liked my basket and it appealed to his inner feminine side, but he had to squash any uprising of his feminine side, so he burned my basket. I’ll show her how to decorate!
How fragile does a person have to be to let one basket annoy them so much that they not only go out into the yard and burn it, but they also risk a huge disagreement with the person to whom the basket belongs to? It’s a basket. A basket, people. It was made of wicker. It didn’t deserve to die.
For the record, there was never one object of his that annoyed me so much that I had to go out in the yard and burn it. I mean, I didn’t like all his ugly button up shirts, but I let them be because they were his shirts.
One day…one day, I won’t have to deal with him anymore and on that day, I will party. It’s going to be a sock party. Everyone has to bring a sock. For only when given a sock was Dobby free from being a slave.
Thursday will be cloudy, with a chance of an email from your ex. Friday will be sunny, with a chance of an email from your ex.
Over this whole thing, my ex still doesn’t get something–his right over me doesn’t really exist anymore. Sure, we’re still working on the divorce, but he doesn’t have a right to tell me how to spend my money, or what to do, or what to say, or how to act, not that he should have had a particular right to those things in the first place. This man still tries to tell me how I should spend my money.
He still tries to pull the wool over my eyes. He says we could still have things be amicable, but constantly goes back on his word…then…blames it on me, because it’s my fault…right? Look, I don’t believe this man for a minute.
If you want credibility, you have to be credible.
At least I got to go out and have a nice day on Saturday. I went shopping, mainly for Christmas presents for others, still a little short on that end though.