I'm impatient.
Have I mentioned that? I am.
Well, sort of.
Ok, only kinda.
When you think about it though, technically, not really at all. Not even that cheesy joke about "I want patience now." applies to me. MyUnwife would disagree. She'd say I'm a vortex of impatience, sapping peace from the world around me. She'd add that somewhere a baby is crying because of me.
There goes another one.
That's what MyUnwife would say. She's deluded and her mom smells funny. Ok, not really on the mom thing, I've never met her mom; I'm sure her hygiene is fine, I was being petty. I am that. But impatient? Only when it breeches areas of my OCD, and then it's not really impatience. It's a war on my sanity.
For instance, I like things complete. I don't like incomplete tasks dangling like untied shoelaces. Her? It's as if they don't exist. They could be bigass spiders spinning webby tendrils before her face. She's oblivious. It used to drive me crazy. Now, it's somebody else's bigass halfassed-spider infestation. I've got my own bugs to work out.
When we were first married, she'd take our outgoing mail with her to the office and mail it from there. Back then, we used to call each other at lunch. (One of those things I missed when she stopped giving or receiving, but anyway…) On mail days I always asked "Did you mail that yet?"
It would piss her off. I mean I could feel phone circuitry melting. "Yessss," the earpiece would seethe into my ear.
She thought I didn't trust her, that I was treating her like a child. That couldn't be further from the truth. I always trusted her. And if I were treating her like a child, I'd have stapled the mail to her chest. The problem was "Send mail" was on my checklist. Until I could check it off, I'd have the shakes. "Where's the mail? Is it out? Can I check it off now? How 'bout now? Now?" So it's not so much impatience or trust as much as it was me needing to check something off my list.
"How 'bout now?"
Oh don't look at me like I'm some kind of psycho freak. You have problems too. In fact I bet you share mine. You hate incomplete things too. That's why when I grab a huge knife and hack—
See? How'd you like that? Oh, and now you're worried about me and a knife? They probably should have removed all sharp instruments a long time ago, but that's another story. Don't worry, I'm relatively harmless. On with my incomplete post...
So, as I type, there's one more thing left undone. One thing that she has control of, that I'm on hold over. Our divorce paperwork. She's supposed to file it in the middle of this month. Today's the twelfth day in a month of thirty. So far I haven't even seen printed copies to sign. I trust you can do the math. You know how close to the "middle of the month" we are. So does MyUnwife.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm in a hurry to get divorced. This was her idea, not mine. Nonetheless, it's something that was started that remains incomplete. Sure, I trust her to get this done, but when? It's like telling your kid they can go to the candy store, but they don't go right away. Why? I know the reason: money. And it's a perfectly legitimate reason, but she hasn't even made the effort to show me paperwork yet.
I've got a nervous tick.
What's worse, is I can't just call. If she even thinks I'm nagging, she'll drag her feet. That's how she is. So, I mentioned it once last month, now I have to strategically pick a date to ask this month. She said "in the middle of the month." Paycheck wise, we're there. I don't know. I'm thinking I'll wait until next week. I'm telling you, it's like what I said yesterday. You have to learn a persons peeves and phobias, and then maneuver around them like a mine field. They say it's all about give and take; it's not: it's bob and weave. That's the art of marriage and the friendly divorce.
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