09.24.09
It has been five days since I had to move out of the house. I am learning to enjoy having my little apartment all to myself, no drips on the toilet seat, or dirty dishes on the counter.
I needed to sign some divorce papers, and we needed to exchange car keys and I needed to hand over my house keys, and access to our bank account. And I needed to get my first spousal support payment. I was nervous about seeing him, since I have been glad, then sad, then lonely, then regretful over the end of our marriage.
He was outside when I pulled up. I handed him a stack of his photos, and his slipper that had accidentally made it to my apartment. I handed him the divorce papers that he had emailed me to print out (I took the printer) but they were the wrong ones. I do not like the idea of having to see him again to sign the documents. I am considering signing them and mailing them to him. I brought the vacuum so he could do one last sweep of the house. He swears he won't need to vacuum for another couple of months after that. I laughed, he looked annoyed.
We argued about a few things, he was annoyed that I took the shower head from the master bathroom. I told him that I would have either taken it, or bought a new one with his money, as we had been on joint finances until yesterday. I figured he would like to have the new one.
He was pretty cranky by the end, I felt bad for him all alone in that big house. But, he made this bed, he can lie in it. I tried for years to make our marriage better. It takes two, and apparently the effort was more than he was willing to give. I hugged him, he put one arm around me. I told him to take care of himself. No answer.
I tried not to cry as I drove away, although I really think this divorce is the best thing for me, although I did not want it to happen. I got home, switched to my motorcycle, and embarked out to my first day at my new job. Personal freedom, here I come. With a few tears in tow.
It has been five days since I had to move out of the house. I am learning to enjoy having my little apartment all to myself, no drips on the toilet seat, or dirty dishes on the counter.
I needed to sign some divorce papers, and we needed to exchange car keys and I needed to hand over my house keys, and access to our bank account. And I needed to get my first spousal support payment. I was nervous about seeing him, since I have been glad, then sad, then lonely, then regretful over the end of our marriage.
He was outside when I pulled up. I handed him a stack of his photos, and his slipper that had accidentally made it to my apartment. I handed him the divorce papers that he had emailed me to print out (I took the printer) but they were the wrong ones. I do not like the idea of having to see him again to sign the documents. I am considering signing them and mailing them to him. I brought the vacuum so he could do one last sweep of the house. He swears he won't need to vacuum for another couple of months after that. I laughed, he looked annoyed.
We argued about a few things, he was annoyed that I took the shower head from the master bathroom. I told him that I would have either taken it, or bought a new one with his money, as we had been on joint finances until yesterday. I figured he would like to have the new one.
He was pretty cranky by the end, I felt bad for him all alone in that big house. But, he made this bed, he can lie in it. I tried for years to make our marriage better. It takes two, and apparently the effort was more than he was willing to give. I hugged him, he put one arm around me. I told him to take care of himself. No answer.
I tried not to cry as I drove away, although I really think this divorce is the best thing for me, although I did not want it to happen. I got home, switched to my motorcycle, and embarked out to my first day at my new job. Personal freedom, here I come. With a few tears in tow.
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