"Anything, anything, anything…"-Dramarama

Eggs.

Check.

Milk.

Check.

Chicken.

Check.

Washer.

Check.

Treadmill.

Check.

Ok that's it then. All my shopping is done. Word came down from work, I'm off the 3rd and 4th. It's official. MyWife will move out while I'm in Laughlin, and my new and not so cool replacement stuff will arrive Monday. That will begin the next phase of our divorce.

I tell you I'm ready. It's horrible, but Saturday we're in a home store. She bought a refrigerator; I picked up a filter for the AC. While I'm waiting, I'm wandering the aisles thinking "Would you just go already?" I feel guilty, but I'm ready to move on. I've been mourning her for over 6 months now. I'm ready to try out colors other than black, but I can't do it until I exorcise her ghost. Except it's more than her ghost; it's her fleshy part; she gave up the ghost a while back. Does that make this her Zombie? Can you exorcise those? Other than shooting them in the head, how do you get rid of zombies? The shooting thing wouldn't go over well. The home owners association frowns on that. Are they like slugs (Not the HOA—I'm still on zombies)? Can't you just throw salt on them? Maybe I'll try that when she gets home, see what she does.

"What the hell?"

"I'm salting you?"

"Why? Would you stop that!"

"How does it feel?"

"Like I'm going to kill you. Now stop wasting salt. I'm taking that with me. You get the lemon wedges and razorblades."

Yeah, even the sarcasm is taking on dark tones as we draw nearer. Sure, it was already dark, but now it's a mine shaft with no exit. I know I'm not any better than she is the sarcastic reign of terror. I mean reread that last paragraph. What kind of happy go lucky guy compares his wife to a zombie? Believe me, I like happy things. Where is my happy?

I sat in church Sunday, the pastor wasn't much help. He gave a sermon about "Continuing Christ's suffering."

"Wha—? Suffering? I was here for the grace sermon. Was that at 8am?"

"shh!"

Essentially, the pastor quoted Paul, explaining that we continue to suffer, in order to lead the way for others around us. Making things better for them, by bearing the burden ourselves. Sounds pretty normal, right? Except the pastor starts giving an example, "What about the couple who decides they don't want to bother fighting for their relationship, because it's too much suffering."

[flip, flip, flip] I swear it said something about grace and mercy in the bulletin...

Yeah, thanks pastor. If you're going to bandy about pointed words like lawn darts, could you at least hurl them at somebody else? I mean, I agree with him, and yet here I am getting a divorce. What choice do I have? Our culture frowns on tying up your spouse to a chair until they agree to stick it out with you. My friend tried that. Now I visit her in prison.

I can't even pretend that I'm trying to make MyWife stay anymore. I used to hold the door for her, to be a good guy. Now I hold the door for a new set of reasons, most of which stem from the hope that I can lock it behind her.

See? That's how I know it's over in my heart. I used to want her to stay because I loved her, now I want to keep her because of all of my failings she exposes by leaving. My flaws tossed around the yard like some kids toys for all the neighbors to see. And that makes it worse: I don't like having to admit how selfish this makes me sound. Rob Blogwriter is a good guy. I'm loving and caring and I should want her to stay for all the good reasons, but I don't, not anymore.

So we're both rats scampering for rations and rationale, anything to fill our individual nests. Anything to keep us hidden. Anything to keep.

Anything.