Please Step Away From The Marriage…

I have been totally pushed for time this week and as such, the blog has been left to gather cobwebs.  I had a good reason.  The Squeeze and I went to look at a house on the weekend and it just so happened that it was in a great position and had all the bits and bobs that we wanted!  Ie:  good kitchen, two bathrooms, floor boards, extra bedrooms.

Deciding to apply for it meant that we had to collate documents that stretched from birth until now; (at least that is how it seemed) and not only do they want the documents, but they wanted all the contact numbers – which they then sat and phoned!

And the application was looking good.  They had phoned me a couple of times and I knew we would get it.  I’m a clean freak; my previous property managers would have sung my praises.

Then I went to bed and tossed and turned because it all just seemed like a rush.  My lease isn’t up yet so I’d be penalised there.  My car died – more money flying out at a rate faster than I can earn it.  The girl isn’t ready.  The list seemed endless really.  So, after a night of sleeplessness I got up and emailed the squeeze to say “I think you should get rid of your place; I will aid the girl to move out and we should stay here until the end of my lease and save the money to move without hassle or drama.

He agreed so I wrote a brief letter, blaming my Moodle like boyfriend of getting cold feet and withdrew our application.  In fact, they were very nice to me; probably discussing what a pathetic weasel I was going out with and feeling sorry for me; which was ok by me.

But in the end, here we are making decisions on house size based on Kid 3!

As I said in my early morning email; for one - if the kid is even remotely normal he will begin to cease wanting to come and spend the weekend shortly anyhow (given that he is about 14). 

For two; this was about Kid 3 having “his own space”. 

Ummm excuse me?  WTF?  At the moment the kid has a room with a single bed futon velvet wearing thing in the corner on the floor (bed never made and I doubt ever changed...)  Kid 1 has a piano in there that basically takes up a whole corner.  And there is a bookcase housing sheets etc that takes up another corner.  There is an ugly wardrobe which I assume is empty given that if he doesn’t bring clothes with him when he comes to stay, it means a shopping expedition (not added to the spreadsheet to calculate maintenance either I bet.)

Other than that, there are clothes (not his) strewn about the floor and I suspect that whenever the kid rolls out of that bed, Kid 1 (who I pimped for) rolls into it – because he obviously can’t find his own place!

Shoot me for being a fool, but I kind of figure a weekend in my spare bedroom; clean queen sized (normal) bed.  Spotless room; no risk of slipping on the slime in the shower; not a cockroach in sight – would be paradise by comparison!

So we are agreed that the Squeeze needs to set about giving notice at his place (hopefully it doesn’t take as long as the ‘one more page’ on the divorce) getting a mini skip (half of his crap is just that – crap – and it isn’t coming), and organising what goes where.

Not that I’m being pessimistic, but I suggested that he doesn’t just ‘give it away’.  I mean what happens if it doesn’t work out?  And if he was dolling it out to Kid 1 and 2, he should tell them it is on loan and look after it.  Otherwise they’re likely to move house and the Squeeze’s large (and dirty) fridge will just get left behind somewhere.

Last night I’m looking into storage.  I will have some of the daughters stuff and I have a few things stored for Boy 1 (mine) and my sister in the UK – and hell, my place is already packed to the rafters, so figure we can store stuff off site.

So while using the calculator, I say “I’ve put the lawn mower into this storage calculator, what else do you think should go in there?”

And he replies: “I’ll just give the lawn mower to the harridan.” (He uses her name)

WTF?  Would this be the same bitch that sent text messages earlier in the evening yelling at him to fix her latest organisational cock up with Kid 3 (while attributing blame to him of course)?  The same cow that delayed our holiday?  The same holier than thou, velvet wearing weirdo that wouldn't let him have drugs and nearly killed the kid?  Then wouldn’t trust the squeeze to have him when he was sick (unless she had to go somewhere)? 

Give her the new-ish lawn mower?  Over my dead, freaking, body!

Moodle!  You are one page away from divorce!  You don’t have to look after her.  You never did need to!  She has done perfectly well when you consider she has a house – you have a rented dump and a couple of kids that require assistance! 
News Flash:  She no longer has your testicles in her handbag!!!  Please step away from the marriage!

And all that flicked through my mind before I even thought of the fact that we will be looking for a house in September; and I’m sure as hell not buying a new mower because the Harridan might need it!  I couldn’t care less what she needs!  (Except for maybe a good slap) 

It is freaking Stockholm syndrome!