My Daily Thoughts While Living With My Soon-To-Be-Ex-Husband
Not soon enough.
I thought getting divorced would be quick. Sure, there’s the 6 months “cooling off” period required in my state but that’s just a formality. We don’t have multiple properties, no one owns a business, and in our no-fault state you could have 15 mistresses and it wouldn’t matter.
Clearly, I’m doing it wrong.
My first mistake was pulling the plug during a pandemic. Then it was to try a Parenting Marriage (although at the time it was probably for the best since we couldn’t move out anyway). I made another mistake in thinking that maybe, just maybe, Joseph would be civil instead of wanting to punish me. I was wrong.
I’m still reminded, every day, of how much I hate living with him. These are some actual thoughts I’ve had during the day.
“Of course he dropped my bag sealer and then insisted the part that broke off wasn’t there when he dropped it because he can’t find it on the floor. And now it’s trash since the heating element is completely missing. That’s cool, don’t apologize despite you’ll have full-on tantrums because I won't apologize when I don’t even know what I did wrong.”
“Why is it that you’re so careless you’re constantly ruining my things? I haven’t broken or ruined a single thing of yours, ever. You spilt paint on my couch that I moved from Canada, you broke my rule of not letting the kids (when they were toddlers) drink in my car and Ashton spilt an entire cup of juice on the seat which I then had to clean up, you drove and crashed my SUV over a Thanksgiving weekend, you spilt Diet Coke on my sun hat when I trusted you to drive my car again…and that’s just the stuff off the top of my head.”
“I’m supposed to be grateful that he swept the floor but what the fuck, he leaves the dirt in a pile instead of doing the last step of actually getting a dustpan to throw it out. And as always, he wants an ‘atta boy’ for doing half a job.”
“Buying sugary soda for the kids, that makes sense when you’ve commented how you’re concerned about the weight they’ve gained since Covid. I busted my ass off for 10 years to view soda as a once-in-a-blue-moon treat and here you are giving it to them every other day. And now, like addicts, they throw tantrums when they can’t get any.”
“Oh cool, thanks for not changing your direct deposit for the bill paying bank account. Now, for the 4th month in a row, I have to nag that you need to transfer more money because I can’t pay these bills on my salary. How about if I do the same as you, then you can worry about whether the mortgage is paid. Good lucking doing a cash-out refinance if our credit scores plummet.”
“I can’t wait to not live in a house that has millions of stupid cheap Happy Meal toys everywhere.”
“I’m up until 3:30 am every night continuously working on side hustles but thanks for still not making the one file I requested, which I only said because you asked what you could do to help our finances in this divorce time. I even had to remind you. Don’t bother asking what you can do to help if you’re going to need constant reminders to get it done. I’m too tired to get my hopes up that you’ll actually do something when you offer assistance.”
“I can’t wait until you’re forced to grow the fuck up and manage a household with bills on your own.”
“Everything for the kids is in the Google calendar. I make sure it’s up to date. And yet, you still ask me whether Ashton has any therapies that day or you’ll take them out for fast food without being cognizant that they’re missing afternoon classes. What the hell are you going to do when I’m not there to remind you every day?”
“I seriously don’t understand how I can hear him chewing one floor away, in another room, with the door closed. I’m going to take a fork to my ears.”
“Yup, your car battery won’t start and you realize you don’t have AAA. I’ve been handing you the bill for over a year after I no longer needed it because I got another service for free with my Honda. You didn’t bother to read the notices. And now you’re acting like you had no idea that I wasn’t paying it for you when I handed the bill and reminder to you every single time.”
“Yes, I know you don’t feel well. You’ve said that almost every day for the past 20 years. I even kept a log for a while to see if I was making it up. I was not.”
“For fuck’s sakes, please pick up your feet when you’re walking in the bedroom when I’m working. My entire desk shakes and rattles because you walk like a depressed elephant. I’m going to go fucking postal.”
“Another eBay package. More crap for the kids because naturally, we want to turn them into spoiled little assholes who don’t appreciate the toys they have. Why stop buying toys online just because we owe $27,000 in taxes this year because you fucked up and overpaid your 401k?”
“Are you seriously in the bathroom in the middle of the day crying at the top of your lungs? It’s been nine months and you’re the one who threatened me with divorce for years. How is any of this a surprise? And why the fuck can’t you learn to cry quieter instead of sounding like a dying wolf? If you’re going to be this melodramatic then you might as well not bother leaving the room, we all can hear it anyway.”
“Thanks for drinking all of the almond milk and putting the empty carton back in the fridge.”
“Your company keeps sending monthly snacks and the ones you don’t want to eat have been sitting in a pile on the kitchen counter for almost an entire pandemic. If I ask you to move it all, I’ll look like a nag.”
“I can’t wait to live in a house where there isn’t another adult who leaves crumbs and sticky things all over the kitchen without wiping anything down. I don’t understand how he doesn’t clean up coffee puddles on the counter…coffee is brown, the counters are white, it’s not like it’s hard to see.”
“You did not just seriously ask me where the vacuum is. We have two of them. You don’t know where at least one of them is? You didn’t think maybe to try opening the only hall closet we have upstairs?”
“Oh, just a random paper towel on the floor by the couch where you’ve been sitting. Let’s see how long before you notice it and pick it up.” Days later: “It’s been two days of a white blob on the floor in the room that you spend 50% of your time in and clearly I’m the one who is going to pick it up because I learned in this marriage that it will only get done if I ask or do it myself.”
“If he argues with me about getting the massive painting in the living room, I’m going to be pissed. I’ll ask him if he knows where it’s from, how many months I stalked it online daily to wait if the price dropped, how much it cost, and whether he’s the one who hired an expert to hang it since it’s so massive. It’s the only thing on the wall I want to have, he can take everything else.”
“It’s going to suck when he realizes that even the big kitchen appliances are up for negotiation. I’m taking the fucking fridge if he’s keeping the range, the microwave, the oven, the dishwasher, and the range hood…all of which I’m the one who researched and purchased.”
“I want to start boxing up the things that are purely mine now because I know how long it takes to pack this household but he’ll go berserk when he starts seeing a pile of boxes in the corner. He’ll bitch that I’m clearly in a huge rush to leave this marriage. Even though it helps me manage the stress of moving out in the fall and organize the visuals of what does need to be divided.”
“He’s going to flip his shit when they point out that for the past four years of tax returns, with his bonuses, he’s made double my income. He’s going to insist that they’re all flukes and that all the mediators should look at is his base salary. Which he only has all of that because I’m the one who skipped her career when he left me to be a working single mom all week.”
“I wonder if I can convince him to keep the adult, more-expensive drinking glasses so I can take the cheap Target plastic cups. I’d rather keep those.”
“I should sell the massive box of wine glasses and punch bowl that were used for that one bridal shower. But will he flip out when he sees the gaping spot where they were in the pantry?”
And finally, just now:
“I can’t believe I have to fucking remind him, despite that it’s a recurring meeting in the shared calendar, to be back by 12:30 today so Ashton doesn’t miss speech therapy. Because if I don’t, he’s not going to bother looking, then he misses it, and I’m getting tired of messaging the therapist when they’re still not home.”
Sigh.
