Soapbox Diner
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Moving out . . . |
02.16.07 |
Done deal, kiddos. I told him to get the heck outta dodge by Sunday. Only he doesn't think that's fair so he wants to stay here while he's figuring it out.
He says he's embarrassed and doesn't want to crash at his peoples'. Well, ya know, who's problem is that?
Whatever. He's leaving everything we've accumulated together except the 42 inch plasma TV - oh, and the 2x2 foot HOLE IN THE FUCKING WALL he cut out so as to attach said TV - idiot.
He was surprisingly very nice about it, though. I only had to do about an hour of listening to him reminisce over how I wasn't meeting his needs and that was it.
It was bittersweet in bed, though. At first we laid very politely on our respective separate sides of the bed. Then, just as I was falling asleep and snuggled all warm and cozy under the covers, he rolled over and we spooned. You know, if there had been more nights of quiet spooning and companionship that didn't hinge on the expectation of exposed genitalia, things might have worked out differently.
But that's just hindsight now, isn't it?
Oh, and the Boss has approved me to work about 20-30 hours a week in OT to cover his income loss - indefinitely. That was nice of her.
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