And so it begins.
The last leg of our competition: The body count. This is where the bounty of marriage is split between competitors, points tallied, winners and losers declared. Sort of like cribbage, the little pegs moved around the board for each run, book and trick. Ok, I don't know, I never played cribbage, but if I did, I'd say "Hey! That's just like when MyWife started moving out!" I am that confident.
At least about her moving out, the rest, who knows. I only know that right now she's establishing her new base camp. She has keys and awaits delivery of all the cool toys her points have bought. She's accepting visits from everyone, from the cable guy to the Fridge guy. I bet if you stopped by she'd give you a tour. Go, check it out. Ignore the mess, she's assembling fiberboard furniture and whatever it takes to make her new house a home.
Ignore the big oven emitting children's screams too; just pretend it's part of the gingerbread motif.
Did I say that aloud?
Today isn't the big move, just the pregame festivities.
I like festivities. They usually have Ferris wheels and bumper car—What?
That's Festivals?
Oh, damn. That explains so much, especially the time she nixed my prearranged foreplay festivities. I only wanted to set the mood...
ANYWAY...
It's been really weird around here. I think because of the proximity of leaving, we're both being really nice. Most of the bitter is gone; it's all been Mr. Rogers Neighborhood friendly.
I wonder, if we'd worked as hard at being married as we have at getting divorced, maybe this wouldn't be happening.
[shrug]
But it is, and this caravan of boxes leaving my house isn't a bad dream. It's my reality. For better or worse, that's what we said. It doesn't get worse than this. I feel guilty for saying that, because I don't say that as the weeping lovelorn tasting despair, I say that as the weather-worn veteran, the cake of dust filling my mouth.
This is what it is. I lost this battle, but there will be others. I'll win a few of them, and either way, win or lose, I'll grow.
But I don't get to fight again until the bodies have been cleared and counted. That's what this move is: clearing the board, resetting the pieces.
The wait is agonizing, most likely why things are so friendly. It's like two competitors going out for beers after the big battle. Sort of a mutual respect for the other, no matter who won.
That's what I'll call it. It's probably more like going to your grandmother's house, to find you're cousin is there. You know the one, the cousin who was always your grandparent's favorite, no matter what they did. Whether they peed in the hall or superglued Gramma's dentures. Doesn't matter, they were angels. Now you're there in the same house with them and you don't want to appear like the jealous asshole for loathing them, so you make nice until they leave.
Whatever it is, I'll take it. I can pretend things are still good for one more week. Then Sunday I'll come back home to find all my toys are gone there's a new game ready to play.
Good thing I like games.
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