Moving day for SadRico. It's been about six weeks since the marriage has been called off and good things are on the horizon for SadRico. He bought a super cute condo and has been spending his time purchasing stylish but manly things to put in it. He finally got the keys last Friday and painters and carpet installers have been in and out erasing the damaging effects of a two year old that apparently felt obligated to touch every flat surface in the house. Rather than a door jam with the special child’s height marked off by month, the size of the hand prints on the wall get bigger as they get higher.
Since last week he has been popping over to Ali's house (his former residence) to pick up this and that. These have been legitimate visits, but it's time to finish up. We were there last weekend for a number of hours packing, purging and puttering. I was working with the kitchen things and he was upstairs in the office. I packed six boxes and headed upstairs to see the progress. I found SadRico sitting in his office chair going through the old birthday and valentines cards. Honestly, I really tried to maintain a balance between ass kicking and sensitivity over the painful situation. i had ask, "are you going to keep the cards?" "no" "Is reading them doing anything for you?" "no" "then throw them away, you're torturing yourself."
All during last week he had been talking about Friday (yesterday) being the 'moving' day. He gathered his big strong friends, rented a truck from U-(we don’t bother with maintenance)-Haul, and made arrangements to be at the house when Ali was out. He and I had a date to meet at the U-(what, two miles to the gallon seems wrong to you?)-Haul place to return the 3.17 mpg truck (seriously 6 gallons for 19 miles) at 8am this morning. (btw... I AM A GOOD FRIEND... out of bed at 8 on a Saturday.) We get in the car and he tells me that he forgot the TV at the house and he has to go back over.
F*ck a DUCK dude... So, we decide to go over and try to get the TV in my car (we were close to her house) try as we might - the 700 pound tv wouldn't fit through the door of the jetta. But. while we were there I noticed that there were things of his still in the house. Uh, what about your DVD's? "oh, yeah I thought I get them later." Ok, Sir-cries-a-lot, you moved yesterday... the time to get everything is now. We literally filled my car with stuff (except the tv) and with barely enough room for he and I we took a load over to the condo where we picked up his car. Back to the townhouse, pick up the tv, one more sweep through the house (two bags of clothes) and a snuggle with the kitties. That has to suck... I mean leaving your home (suck), ending your marriage (super suck) but walking away from the kitties... (boo)
I foolishly asked him how he was holding up, which then caused him to break down. He cried for a bit (which I allowed because I'm not dead inside -- really) and then I scooted his ass into the car. He said he forgot to lock the back door and asked me to go check. While I did that I took the front door key off his ring and pocketed it. He noticed and thanked me. I know it was a dangerous move... it could have gone either way but it had to be done. I figured he didn't need the emotional memory of taking the key off his key ring.
Later, after a trip to Home Depot and Seattle Lighting, we were in the condo hanging the Shower-Curtain-Rod-of-Death and he thanked me for making him take all of his stuff. He admitted that he hadn't wanted to really take everything because that would mean he was never going back. I held back the "yeah... I know" and left it at the friendly nod. (I don't have to verbalize that I'm right about everything... I can simply know it in my heart.)
The good news is that his condo is fabulous. It's manly yet homey. not overly IKEA Batchelor nor is it QueerEye. I'm thankful that it feels like a real home and not the Baremont Arms Apartment Homes for the Newly Divorced Man. "Swing on in Mister!"
All in all I think he did very well today, and I'm hopeful that he will soon lose the SadRico title and go back to being just Rico
1 comment:
I'd almost be willing to consider spousal murder [note to prospective spouses: just kidding!] as a divorce alternative just to keep my story out of your blog. But even that probably wouldn't work.
"Today, MWRderer and I went shopping for picnic coolers. MWRderer was teary, but focused. Who knew someone could be so particular about a picnic cooler after his wife has just walked out of his life forever? (And that tacky typewritten letter she left for him--that hit him pretty hard. 'Don't try to find me'--what a cliché !) At least MWRderer is finding some outlets--just last week he upgraded his golf clubs, and now he's planning this fishing trip! That should help take his mind off of Ali-venomore, at least for the day."
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