fatrockstar

I have determined that whatever is causing my sore throat is INSIDE this house. I don't know what it is or how I can pinpoint it, I just know that my throat is sore to the point where singing is difficult and I often have a dry cough. In addition to that I am also suffering from super-dry sinuses and my eyes are intermittently on fire. This overall pain and discomfort is very frustrating because I know my dad would like to hear from me and I also have a gig on Sunday afternoon to sing for. I can't have long conversations with a glass throat.

All this started to escalate after PAX, which is also when temperatures broke 80 here. Now that it's rainy and in the 60s I thought for sure it would calm down. Noop.

It's not Martha, either. I was having this problem before she came to live with us and it hasn't become worse by being near her. Is it a moisture thing? I'm worried that if I turn on my humidifier and I'm wrong it could make everything worse. I have a huge fear that my crawlspace, which I have not ventured into for a Very Long Time, is a biosphere all its own and has finally outgrown the space beneath my house to infect me with its alien micro-organisms.

Speaking of Martha, she is painfully adorable. She is also painfully codependent and follows me everywhere, chirping at me in her squeaky little meao. I am concerned I will end up with two cats anyway, which will upset me, but I don't want to traumatize an animal with endless hours of loneliness she doesn't want.

So far we haven't really established a Grady-esque rapport. The only things that really come through are LOVE ME and WATCH ME EAT. We'll get there, I'm sure.



I pulled a white corset out of the dark corners of my closet and decided I was going to fuck with it. Why not, right? I spent $40 on it for my wedding back in '02 and have worn it maybe once since. At first I considered spray painting it red and doing the WW motif, but that's way too predictable. Instead I ripped off the tacky lacy trim and am painting it a lovely royal blue. Maybe I'll add some new trim if I have something worthwhile here in the house, but for now it's drying in the garage.



My new washing machine arrived this week and will take some getting used to. Instead of standard washing machine noises this one sounds like it's heaving during the wash cycle. I honestly thought for a moment that it was going to vomit my clothes all over the interior of my laundry room. That would have been terrifying.



I've been thinking about my former in-laws a lot lately. I put away Nate & Karen's wedding party photo a long time ago, but the last family picture they sent me is still up on my wall along with photos of other family members I don't get to see very often or at all. I'm pretty sure a lot has changed since the last time we heard from each other. The more time that passes the more awkward it seems to reach out and say hello, but life goes on. I don't want to make things uncomfortable for the Blues. Despite my ex's past behavior, I still love them and want them to be peaceful and happy.



Has anyone using Netflix seen The Hard Times of RJ Berger? I finished season 1 and loved it. Season 2 isn't available for streaming, which sucks, but I'm digging it. Word to the wise: I like strange television. My recommendations are not solid.

I got an email today from the mediator handling our divorce paperwork.

I mailed my signed papers in in JULY -- how long does it take to get divorced in Washington, anyway? Why did it take so long to hear back? Everything was already settled and property divided, and all that needed changing was the date. I'm very confused as to why it took for-fucking-EVER to get this paperwork back to us.

Again, we have a list of court dates that mean absolutely nothing to either of us. The first one isn't even 90 days out -- it's in February of 2011! I get to file married-taxes for yet another year. Super.

We are uncontested, no kids, assets divided and issues resolved. We haven't even been in the same room together since November 2007 or earlier. I'm still dumbfounded why it was filed in King County again. It would have been faster and easier to just file it in Lincoln County, where divorce-by-mail is common and doesn't require a court appearance. It wasn't my decision, though. I'm not the one with the funds to do it.

That we have court dates at all is still progress. Figuring out how to navigate the whole thing is another story.

I got paperwork in email today. Many of my questions have been answered. I am still very unsettled when I see his name in my Inbox. I miss my in-laws. They probably hate me, I don't know. I wish I had handled my SIL's pregnancy better, but it was just not something I could handle at the time. I hope they are all happy and healthy.

So... better late than never.

After my post declaring to the world I am not really divorced, I screwed up the courage to pay Garret a visit at his office. I took too long and missed him -- he is no longer in that office OR at the company, so my chance was lost.

I probably should have made contact a long time ago but didn't. Why would I want to? This is the guy who could have ended our marriage amicably and with very little fanfare like we'd both agreed to do, but decided to employ an ugly exit strategy instead. There wasn't anything pleasant I wanted to say to him and plenty of unpleasant things. Time is of the essence, though, so I sent an email.

I wrote that fucking email fifteen times. It went from ten paragraphs to ten words to ten sentences, until I finally put everything I wanted to say into about three and a half paragraphs: Sorry I missed you, we are not divorced, I cannot afford to re-file, please re-file in Lincoln County.

Have a nice life, good-bye.

I didn't expect to hear back from him, but I did a few hours later. Nothing lengthy or ugly. He sent acknowledgment of my request and let me know he had begun the process with the mediator last week. I don't have to worry about any fees, he'll take care of that. We have a mutual acquaintance that can relay any paperwork. It was extremely anticlimactic, but in a good way. I really didn't want to hear about what his life is like now, or read a mock-friendly tone in his reply. Facts are good. Simple is good.

Even though he's been gone long enough for me to get through my grief, I'm feeling the pain return a little. It's not about missing him, it's about being treated like I don't matter and taken away from a family I loved dearly. It's about the uncertainty and loneliness when you've made a commitment and the other person hasn't. I would rather put that behind me instead of be reminded of it, and now I'm wishing it had been done immediately instead of lazily. Considering the person in question, that's a lot to ask.

It will be over soon, though. That much I can look forward to.

I sent an email to Garret a week or so ago regarding the divorce and taxes. Usually I will hear back from him, but this time... silence. No "fuck you," no "where's my [insert something he could have bothered to ask for here]," no "I have no idea what you're talking about." I don't care if he's a new uncle, if he broke his leg, if he's depressed, or if he won the lotto -- this is important, and I am NOT going to pay for his laziness anymore. I'm done with that crap.

"So Wynne," you ask, "why don't you just re-file the papers yourself and get it over with? Isn't it worth it to not have to think about him ever again?" Maybe, but that's not the point.

Everything I have ever asked Garret to do, and every responsibility Garret has ever had for others has been ignored or argued about. During the marriage I would jump through every little hoop he threw out to "ask the right way," and it almost always resulted in me giving up and doing it myself. The only things Garret ever did when I asked him to were "take out the garbage" and "come eat." I'm not doing this one for him. He's the one that put me through the ringer. He's the one that ruined everything. He's the one that decided to leave. This is one mess I refuse to clean up.

Plus, I don't have the money to re-file. I'm about to make a big decision soon whether or not to walk away from this house. I can't afford to sell it.

Have I mentioned I'm not going to clean up after him this time? I don't think I've hammered that point home enough.

That's been my week so far. But, it's been a pretty good week. I have some good things coming down the pipe, and I'm happy about them.

Aside from good news I don't want to jinx, I am still collecting items from my personal inventory to sell or donate. I have a number of clothes I can no longer fit in without having to pin them to my body, so those will have to go. I also have a bunch of books and software I don't really want to hang on to. The software is mostly games or something similar that you would not expect an update for.

The big things are going to be hard to get rid of. I have a 300-disk CD changer that I have never used. My dad thought it was the awesomest thing ever ten years ago and I have yet to put more than five disks in it. CraigsList has a few listed for about $50. I'm sure there's someone out there who doesn't want to rip their collection. It's not me -- I just came across a box of CD's I don't know if I'll ever listen to again.

I have a shiny new eBay account and will probably use that for some small things.

I'm uncovering so much. Not all of it are things I really wanted to deal with again. I found pictures of Garret and his siblings from the time we all went up to Stevens Pass to take pictures, and both he and his sister acquired giardiasis. Fun. While those were better times, I remember staying out of family pictures because deep down I knew I wouldn't be family for much longer. I regret that now, but back then I just didn't want to become an unpleasant memory. Now I will be no memory at all except for the white gold band around Garret's finger.

Allison suggested again that we might end up as roommates. I think that would be fun, but I worry about Grady. She has two cats and a small dog, and Grady freaks out in the presence of other furry mammals.

Oh hey, do you like my new yearbookyourself.com icon? It's the 1960 one. I also have the one from 1968 that is slightly insane looking because I used a different base photo. Too intense, actually. I'll save it for later.

This is the first Independence Day I've had in a long time without Garret. He didn't like to go out to fireworks, preferring to watch them on TV or skip them altogether. If we did go out, it was because his mother invited us to a family gathering at their place. As someone who previously went out of her way to see such things, it was a disappointment to me that my husband wusband did not share my enthusiasm for wanting to live out and about.

I probably could have gone out to the whole "4th of JulIvar's" thing if I had the inclination. It's what my unmarried self would have done. Instead, I sat at home with Grady and made sure he was okay. He's agitated and curious, but I wasn't in the mood to take any chances.

Instead I listened to all the explosions and thought about how loud and scary they were, and felt sorry for myself for not going outside to socialize with my neighbors. There are a lot of cul-de-sacs in my neighborhood, each with their own set of pyromaniacs. By this time next year I could be living somewhere else. Maybe I should have done something special this time around.

I look at Grady and feel a mix of contentedness and sadness. I didn't want a cat. I don't resent his presence -- I'm very protective of him, actually -- but I often think of picking up and leaving for an extended period, and I can't do that without upsetting him and he doesn't travel well. Poor lil' guy.

Maybe by Hallowe'en I'll stop feeling sad around major holidays. Last Hallowe'en I had to endure a dumbass-alien-themed pumpkin (carved by Garret and that tweetybird-lookin', orthopedic-shoe-wearing fuckface he stabbed me in the back with) on my porch. I still hate her so much...

But anyway, it's half-past midnight here and it still sounds like a war zone outside. It does not sound like celebration. It sounds like panic. Panic and fear and intimidation. I'm not going to sleep anytime soon. I live too close to "ground zero."

This was in the paper today, written by an advice columnist I'm not particularly fond of. The dilemma she's responding to is not relevant, but this chunk resonated with me:

When the main reason you get along is that you avoid talking about anything substantial, it follows that a mere whiff of substance will have the power to destabilize the relationships.

Many extended-family situations, unfortunately, survive on these fragile detentes. But marriages die from them, if not from the fighting, then from the loneliness of being so guarded.

And I can't think of any more substantial matters for a couple to talk about than what they hope for, where they hope to be, and where they stand with their families.

I think my divorce is final on Monday. I got that impression from an email I received from the moderator a while back. Garret has not contacted me to confirm this.

I recently decided to use LJ Book to archive my blog all the way back to the massive-deletion I did back in 2003. At the time my husband had dropped a bomb on me and I was devastated on top of devastation. I understand why I did it.

Checking the PDF to make sure it got everything was eye-opening. Garret had been a jerk to me since we got married, and I've been naive for the last five or so years. I should have left earlier. I honestly thought we could make it work. I wrongly assumed he possessed the same level of maturity I did, and I suffered.

As much as I like having fun, dancing, going out, and fucking off, I also like being a grownup. Accepting the responsibility of someone else's trust in you doesn't make you a dork. That's how I saw marriage -- a situation where you mutually accept the responsibility of someone else's trust. It's part of adulthood, and it's huge. I am trustworthy. I would marry again. I'd just be more careful next time.

I don't have to wear Mom Jeans to be a grownup. I don't have to turn into my parents to be a grownup. I am an adult on my own terms, and those terms include being honest, respectful, and responsible. Believe it or not, it IS possible to have fun while doing this. My dad is a curmudgeon because he wants to be. My mother was bitter because she wanted to be. Your parents are square because they want to be.

I know who I am. I don't know what I want. It seems a lot easier to know what I don't want. Avoidance takes less effort than pursuit.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this.

Meh.