I Don’t Look Good In Orange

The saga of the checks continues on. I got another one today. That makes it #8. Or, #6 if you subtract the two where Cousinfucker STOPPED PAYMENT on them.

So…. I had pretty much decided to take the next checks I got to his bank and cash them there. Only a funny thing happened. I noticed that this was not yet another envelope from his company. (Yes, he’s been using company envelopes to send his checks so I wouldn’t have his address even though they’re on the damn checks!) No, there was a new return address which was strange in and of itself because he has spent most of his time going out of his way to not let me know his address.

My mom ended up googling the address. Turns out Cousinfucker and the whore have moved into a beautiful 2800 sq. ft. brick home in a new city. It’s listed for $286,000 and has a rental price of $1800/month.

This is the same cousinfucker that is supposedly so broke he can’t pay his court ordered $3600/month. And yet he and the whore and her fucking hooligans can suddenly up and move into a new house. Must be nice to be a lying, cheating sack of shit with absolutely no conscience.

We all know, don’t we, that come the day of the divorce trial he’s going to be arguing that he can’t possibly be expected to pay any kind of spousal or child support. He’s got this new family to support! He’s got bills! He’s got a new house payment (although I’m fairly certain they are renting and not buying) and it’s even more than the rent on the old house. Hell, I’ll probably find out he’s bought new cars for all of them. Why not? It’s not like he has any actual bills to pay!

To add insult to this shit sundae I find out they have now opened up a new joint checking account. So now I won’t be able to verify that he has the funds or hasn’t stopped payment on the checks he has written.

The mobster has been a great source of comfort and sanity. “He’s just trying to push your buttons, cutie,” he tells me over and over. I tell myself, “You won’t look good in orange, Sam, and you can’t get your hair highlighted in prison.”

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That Cousinfucking Sonofabitch!

Remember when I told you that CF has been sending me checks for $555.55 at random moments? He just sent his 7th one this past week.

I procrastinate; I admit it. Going through mail is not one of my favorite things but apparently when you’re married to a fucking fucktard you need to do that more often. It turns out I had not one, but two, of his checks returned and my account charged $10 each time. Oh, and get this. It wasn’t because there were insufficient funds in the account. No! They were returned because he stopped the fucking payment on them!

Is there any fucking justice in the world? I have tried so hard to be a grown up and to not do anything crazy but he is testing my patience. I haven’t bothered with calling the company that manages his 401k and reporting him because what does it gain? As people have pointed out the whore isn’t married to him so she can’t claim a damn thing if he dies before the divorce. I’ll tell you what it gains. It gives me a set of balls. It tells him and the whore both that you don’t mess around with Sam because she will fuck you over in a heartbeat if you mess with her.

I didn’t toss his ass out of the house after finding out about his whoring around. I didn’t toss his shit out onto the lawn. I didn’t vandalize his car or put up signs so everyone would know what a lying, cheating piece of shit he was. And what did it gain me? It gained me a reputation as a pussy. Oh don’t worry. Sam won’t do anything. She’ll always be reasonable. She’ll always be calm.

Fuck that! Maybe I need to go nuclear. Maybe they need to start thinking I am crazy. Holy shit! Don’t fuck with Sam. You don’t know what that crazy bitch will do next!

If I knew I would be vindicated in court I could keep my shit together a hell of a lot better. But I have no faith whatsoever that that will happen. He’ll just get to keep fucking me over. I hate him.

Shitty beginning to the weekend. Shitty ending.

Oh, The Day I Had

Have you ever had one of those days? Yeah, me, too. Friday.

First of all work was crazy. Our computers were down for a while so we had to do everything by hand. Then from probably 2:00 on it was nonstop customers, which normally would be good because the time passes quickly when you’re busy. But this wasn’t an ordinary day.

Late afternoon my manager is back with us and she asks me if I got her email. She tells me someone from home called and needed me to call home. She’s pretty sure it’s my mom and not my daughter. A few minutes later someone else comes back and tells me my mom is on the phone. Oh boy!  This can’t be good.

Turns out my dog broke through the screen door to get to her humans who were out in the garage carrying things out and clearing a path for new floor supplies. The garage door was open and she ended up running into our very busy street and getting hit.

She’s fine. No injuries whatsoever. But the people who hit her were concerned about internal injuries and urged my mom to take her to a vet to get checked out. This was why she was calling.

God love her; I’m sure it was traumatic for my mother. But when she called the second time and got through I got: I called you earlier and they said you were with a customer. It’s been eighteen minutes and I can’t believe you’re still with the same customer.

Eighteen minutes, folks! Eighteen minutes.

Um, actually, Mom, I’m with a customer now. It’s been extremely busy and I haven’t had a break between customers. It’s Friday and I work at a bank. It’s payday, y’all!

We discuss the dog and I tell her to go ahead and take her in to a vet’s office.

Next thing I know I have a co-worker coming back to where I am to tell me my mom is up front. Oh dear Jesus! What’s wrong? What’s happening? I don’t even remember why she stopped in. Something about the vet, I’m sure. I just remember her telling me she figured it would be quicker to stop in because she had called and they asked her if she could hold and when she said yes they put her on hold for four minutes! Four minutes!

Again, I’m sure this was traumatic for my mom and I’m very grateful she was willing to drive my dog in hopes of finding a vet to look at her.

I was supposed to meet up with my best friend for dinner to celebrate her birthday. Instead I’m speeding off to meet my mom and dog at the vet’s office. Turns out they couldn’t get her in. She was up and walking around, didn’t seem fazed at all about what had happened so we just decided to wait and see. Spoiler alert: She is fine.

I go meet my friend for dinner and about an hour and half into it I get a message that my son has clogged up the toilet again. Now, Picasso can be a charming boy but he is frequently constipated and ends up pooping what looks like porn star penises into the toilet. Do not ask me how I know this but these porn logs are also as hard as a rock.

A little while later I get another text: Forget the pill box. The toilet has overflowed and it’s running into the utility room.

Not long after that I’m told that the mess has spread into the downstairs bathroom and the ceiling is caving in.

Wonderful!

So I hightail it home, get Picasso busy cleaning up more of the mess, throw towels into the washing machine and wipe down the bathroom floor by hand with bleach water.

That was my day from hell and the start of my weekend. How was yours?

I’m Taking It All Back

I wrote recently about not being held hostage by dates of significance any longer. I’ll go one step further. I refuse to lose one more thing due to him and his disgusting behavior. All those songs I said I couldn’t listen to? Over it! Places we went? Things we did? Rewind and reframe! As a commenter on Chump Lady wrote a few years ago:

…early on, when I was still so fragile and still navigating the divorce process and it’s aftermath, we had a standing half-joke: “Re-Write” when we would do something fun or take a trip in a place that had once been “special” for X and I and/or our kids. We realized that we were writing a new ending, writing a new story for those triggers.

That’s where I want to be. That’s what I plan on doing. In the very beginning when the wounds were fresh I wasn’t sure what to get rid of what, what to stop liking, It felt like anything that had even the slightest relevance to him had to be excised from my life. One of my favorite cities? Could I still like that city? Singers and movies that he had turned me onto? Do I continue to be a fan or do I ditch them?

I know it seems strange to think I even had to worry about any of this because he so seldom spent time with us. Many of my memories involve my kids and other members of my family, but not him. Time spent at Yellowstone? He wasn’t around. That vacation up in Idaho? Nope, he didn’t come along. Gymnastics meets? Most of them were attended by me and me alone. Most of our marriage involved separate memories so this should be easy enough, right?

I’ll admit- the songs were hard ones to take back. So many songs that reminded me of him. Songs that we danced to at our wedding or his sister’s wedding. I Swear. Amazed. I loved those songs before they became significant parts of my history; I will love them again. Just Give Me a Reason by Pink. All of Me by John Legend. Those were the songs of the summer of ’13 and ’14. The first was the song I clung to, hoping that our marriage could be restored after I found out about Harley. The second was the song I thought described us once we had “reconciled” and were “better than ever”! Now though, they’re just songs.

No, that’s not even accurate. The mobster sent me the lyrics to “All of Me” recently, not knowing the history behind the song for me. He said that it reminded him of me. What’s even crazier is that I was driving not that long ago when that song came on. It made me think of him. I could listen to that song and not think of the lying, cheating, victim morphing poopy head I had married, but instead could envision this new life with this new guy. A guy who appreciates me. Who thinks I’m wonderful. Who offers to call the doctor’s office for me when I’m frustrated. Who buys me polar bears.

Days after I found out my husband was once again cheating on me, when he would leave every weekend to go spend those days with the whore, I could do little but watch TV and play Candy Crush. My brain couldn’t anything more challenging than that. I was watching “Baby Daddy” and it was the episode where Brad proposes to Bonnie. He assembled a flash mob and they all sang that song to her. I remember having to fast forward through it because I could not handle listening to it. Now, however, that song- All of Me- has been reclaimed by me. No more switching the radio station. No more avoiding it on iTunes.

Need more examples of things I’m taking back? He was a huge Elvis fan. I’ve seen most of his movies, had “Love Me Tender” as our first dance at our wedding, and visited Graceland at least six times. Here’s the thing. I liked Elvis even before I met the shit eating chimp. I wasn’t as obsessed with him as CF was, but I liked him. So Elvis stays. I’m not going to banish everything Elvis because of CF.

While visiting Graceland the first time I fell in love with Memphis. I love their barbecue, their fried dill pickles, their zoo, their humidity, the music, and Beale Street. Memphis is mine. I might have only fallen in love with the city because he was around to take me but I was the one who actually suggested we visit Graceland since CF was such a huge fan. He wanted to go to Gatlinburg and going to Memphis as well never crossed his mind. I love that city and I created many fantastic memories there. He doesn’t get to steal that away from me.

I cheered for his favorite college basketball team for years. I knew I was in trouble if they didn’t win early on when he threw my foot off of his lap when they lost a buzzer beater game. My mom said they always said a prayer that his team would win. My kids, or at least Rock Star, still like the team. I don’t have any hard feelings against them. However, I think it’s more fun rooting against them because I know how much he hates it when they lose. That one might be a toss up. I did put a curse on them in the early days, declaring that they would never win another national title. We’ll see how that plays out.

Sadly, there aren’t many other things I need to reclaim. Trips we took together? I think I can probably count on one hand the number of trips we took together: our honeymoon, Memphis/Gatlinburg, Disneyland, Moab, and the Grand Canyon/Four Corners. Yes, those are memories I made with him. They’re still mine.

Our honeymoon was a cruise. I had a fantastic time and would love to go again. He’s not taking that from me. Our next vacation was to Memphis and Gatlinburg. I would also love to take my kids to Memphis and let them see Graceland. I’d love to take them to Gatlinburg. Both of my brothers have gone with their families and they love it. Just because I went there once, many moons ago with CF shouldn’t mean it’s ruined forever more. Nope!

He almost ruined Moab for us. He pricked his hand on a cactus and that was the end of that. He went into panic attack mode. Silent mode. Oh my God, the sky is falling mode. Back at the hotel he suddenly decided he was dehydrated. Then needed me to hold him and stay beside him in the bed at the hotel room. That was fun times for the kids, let me tell you. The next morning on our way to breakfast he was still acting like he just couldn’t bear to be out in public. I finally lost it. “We’re going home!” I declared. I promptly called up the tour guide company and canceled our rafting trip and our HUM-V tour. If he couldn’t even make it out to breakfast he wasn’t going to be able to do any of that with us and I sure as hell wasn’t paying over $100 per night to sit in a damn hotel room with him while the kids looked on miserably. He ended up begging me to reconsider. I remember him looking at me in the restaurant and asking pitifully, “Are you going to leave me?” I should have taken the bait and said, “Hell yes! This is no way to live!” but I didn’t. I told him I wasn’t but that he wasn’t allowed on anymore family vacations with us. He ended up remaining behind in the hotel room while my niece and my kids and I all went white water rafting and did the HUM-V tour.

You know what? We had a blast! We didn’t let him stop us or ruin our vacation. So that “family” trip? That’s my memory with my kids. He did eventually go to one of the parks with us but that was the extent of his involvement.

He was on his best behavior when we went to Disneyland and then the Grand Canyon and Four Corners. He was in a good mood. He was fun to be around. He seemed like he had a genuinely good time. I don’t think he ever really had a problem. He just… I don’t know. Wanted attention? Hated seeing us happy? Didn’t ever want to leave his bedroom and felt this was a great way to achieve that? Hell, maybe he figured if he acted like a big enough douche we wouldn’t want him to come with us and we’d stop asking. Who knows? I don’t care anymore!

I say this because it is obvious he is perfectly capable of going on vacation and doing things when he wants to do them. I’m sure he and the whore have gone on many an excursion together. I would bet some serious money that he didn’t play this bullshit game with her when he went. It’s amazing how quickly having an affair can cure you of everything that ails you.

For the longest time seeing pools made me sad. I had finally got mine and it was abruptly taken away just like that. I spent more time waiting for it to be constructed than I actually got to use it. The thought of having another one made me sick to my stomach for a long time. Now? Hell yes I want another pool. And this one won’t be dependent upon that dipshit. I’m not going to let what he did to us kill my dream of one day having another pool.

So that’s it. Things I did and enjoyed with him, I’m going to continue to enjoy. Things I liked I’m going to continue to like. Songs I once loved I’m going to love again. He’s taken enough away. No more, Satan! No more.

No Forgiveness Necessary

April 2015

OK, let’s try to get this sucker done.  I’m hearing so much about forgiveness and realizing that things can change in an instant.  Life is too short. Hating people is toxic to you. Something about holding a grudge or seeking revenge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Blah, blah, blah.

As I’ve said before my grudges are more like: I wouldn’t piss on that person if he/she were on fire.  I don’t think about it on a daily basis.  I don’t plot ways to get revenge or to hurt them or irritate them.  I just quietly go about my life without them in it and choose to pretend they no longer exist. For the most part.  I mean, even with Harley I don’t spend time trying to come up with ways to humiliate her or hurt her in some way. I just know that if her car was on fire with her in it I’d pull up a chair and roast marshmallows while she burned to death.  Not pleasant, and not something to be proud of, but it is what it is.

So, this person I really respect was talking about this.  Her birth mother just died and she was talking about how glad she had found her and had had her in her life.  She wrote, and I quote, “Are you at odds with someone you love?  My heartfelt advice:  Knock it off!  Has it been way too long since you’ve seen someone you love?  Get it on the calendar.  Soon.”

This got me thinking because, as I said, I really respect this person.  I think sometimes this is easier said than done. I think sometimes you have to look out for YOU and if you know this other person (or other people) aren’t good for you then you need to stay away.  Now, I don’t know how things will end up with my in-laws.  I know that when they’re around I love them and I have a good time.  I know my mother-in-law is in the hospital again and her COPD will kill her one day.  I’ve been telling Zack she’ll be fine and she’ll outlive everyone, but after talking to them when they came out a few weeks ago it may not be much longer.  I’m not talking about a year or two.  I’m thinking more like 5-10 years, but certainly not the 20 or so years I figured she had.  So this gets me wondering if maybe I should just knock it off.  They are who they are.  She didn’t know about the naked pictures, although I’m not sure that makes much of a difference. She should have known that something serious enough to make Zack think I was going to leave him went on between the two of them.

I’m not going to lie.  It’s difficult knowing they still talk to her, knowing Harley checks up on her.  I find it beyond creepy that she is still in my life. I find it unsettling knowing that I can be texting my mother-in-law at the same time the whore is texting her. I just find it weird that she isn’t banished from our lives completely; she still has an in, so to speak. I don’t want that bitch to know anything about me, my kids, or even my husband. And that’s impossible when everyone is still FB friends with her. Honestly, I’m not even sure how much they tell other family members so who knows how much gets back to her. I DON’T want her knowing anything about me or my family.  It’s none of her business and she lost that privilege when she started sending my husband naked pictures and offering to let him fuck her up the ass.

Now, realistically, I know she doesn’t come around. I probably shouldn’t say that because I really wasn’t aware the bitch whore even contacted my MIL so who knows?  If she asked her if she needed anything and Tammy Faye said yes it very could end up with Harley running to Tammy Faye’s town to show her devotion to her wannabe future MIL. But, let’s just pretend that realistically she doesn’t come around.  She’s like a fly that keeps buzzing by your head, annoying you but unable to do any damage. She probably won’t show up for holiday dinners or baby showers or weddings.  But then again, and I know this is the crazy talking, maybe she knows from Jezebel or someone else that I won’t be at events so she doesn’t bother coming.  If she knew I was planning on being there perhaps she would show up.

Seriously- how can it not a bug a person that her husband’s mistress is buddy buddy with his mother, his stepfather, his aunt, his cousin, and his sister?!?!  And those are just the people closest to him and/or that he sees regularly when he’s there. That’s not taking into account all of the other relatives that have no clue what the two of them were up to.  I mean, really?  One of the things that I always read about is no contact.  It is imperative that all contact stops between the two cheaters.  OK, he is no longer in contact with her.  What about everyone else in his family?  Does no contact still count when his whore can have an inside view of our family?  She fucking prayed for him when he went into the hospital.  YOU ARE NOT A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY!  Not a friend of MY family! DON’T PRAY FOR HIM, BITCH!  YOUR PRAYERS ARE WORTHLESS TO ME! I just sit amazed, with my mouth wide open while I shake my head.  How can any of them justify staying in contact with her? Oh that’s right.  Because she’s FAMILY! I can’t possibly be the only person who finds it difficult to pretend the other woman doesn’t exist even when she’s gushing over everyone in my husband’s family. Yes, let’s just act like she’s no longer around.  I’ll do my thing and she can do hers, and when we end up running into each other with my kids around and I lose my mind and start screaming about what a worthless whore she is… well, won’t that just be a story to share? Or maybe the plan is for me to pretend like she doesn’t exist and my in-laws keep us separated from here on out. I just delude myself into thinking she’s gone and no longer a part of my life while the bitch just continues to compile information about me and my family. There is still so much to think about when it comes to this.

Present Day Sam Says: We all know how this ends. They didn’t end their relationship with the whore because they were all preparing to welcome her back with open arms when he finally dumped me. I do have to wonder what they’re going to do when this bad romance ends with their beloved Harley cheating on their even more beloved Zack?  Tough call, tough call!

Folks, if you’re going to give reconciliation a chance you make this a deal breaker! Your cheater has to have no contact with the AP. Their family needs to have no contact with the AP. If they do, then your cheater needs to stay the hell away from all of those who refuse to cut the snake’s head off. It’s just not possible to heal or move forward when that snake is still nearby. That person always has a front row seat to your life. Put a stop to it. Immediately. Or get ready for another D-Day.

Finally! Sam Has a Troll of Her Very Own!

It has finally happened, my faithful readers. I got myself my very own, genuine troll. I’m so excited! I’ve seen it happen to others. Rude comments. Crazy stalkers. But it has always passed me by. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve always been way too lovable up until now, or I’m not controversial enough or I don’t say, “Fuck!” often enough. But I have finally hit the sweet spot and captured my very own troll. It reminds me of those long ago days when the kids and I would build leprechaun traps before St. Patrick’s Day. Got one! I didn’t even need a pot of gold.

He commented on an old post, Missing the Affair Partner. He told me I “sound like a bitter woman with many cats.”

Hmmmm… had he bothered to read he would have known I’m more of a dog lover. And why is it always a bitter old woman surrounding herself with cats? Why not surround yourself with dogs? I had three of them at one point, for crying out loud! I even admitted I slept with them after CF left. But no! Troll Boy wants to saddle me with cats. Not that there’s anything wrong with cats. I like cats. I’m just more of a dog person.

You know what I think it is? Cats are generally more aloof. They look at you as if to say, “WTF are you looking at? Get out of my way, you peasant!” Cats don’t give a fuck. Dogs, on the other hand… well, they just love you. They’re so happy. “OMG! You’re home! You’re home! I’ve missed you sooooooo much! You are the best person in the entire world! I love you!” Cats, at the heart of it, are bitter! And they don’t take any shit, which we all know cheaters hate! That is why we bitter, cheated on people must surround ourselves with cats. Like attracts like. We can’t contaminate the friendly dogs that forgive everybody for everything with our bitterness and drag them down.

Of course I had to reread the post just to see what I was going on so bitterly about. Turns out it wasn’t that bad. I basically said if you miss your affair partner so damn much then go run off and be with him or her. See that? I’m encouraging true love! How can that be bitter?

Oh, that’s right! Cheaters are all about having their cake and eating it, too. Or as my mom’s friend used to say, “He wants his cake and his ice cream, too!” Yes, it’s no fun for the cheaters when the spouse is no longer around to do their part. It’s a very important part. It’s the day to day running of the cheater’s life, picking up all the pieces, making sure everything runs smoothly. How dare you tell me to leave my spouse and go be with my fuck buddy? You, madame, are a bitter, ugly, horrid person who obviously has more cats than you know what to do with!

I did paint a fairly unflattering picture of life with the fuck buddy after they got their “happily ever after”. Let’s face it. They all want to believe they’re the exception. They all want to believe that the romance that goes on during the illicit affair will continue once real life intrudes. The 23 year old with the hot body and no other distractions will never age, never get fat, never have a baby that demands her attention and takes some of it away from you. The man with all the money and all the shiny fun things you want will never say no, will never have to go work to actually earn that living, will never cheat on you. Nope, life will remain perfect because fuck buddies are true soul mates. Just ask them. But please, don’t actually look at any statistics or real life cases. We wouldn’t want to burden cheaters with the truth. They hate the truth!

I could have just sent Troll Boy to spam but I figured he has a right to his opinion. It’s wrong, of course. But he’s entitled to be wrong. Oh, don’t worry. I also told him he sounded like a lying cheater and finished it up with a very cat-like, “Fuck off.”

The Past, Present and Future

The four year anti-versary of finding out that CF was still fucking around with Harley after a summer of degrading myself to win him back was just the other day. Four long years. I should have showed him to the curb that very day. Instead I forgave him and tried to work through it. I moved 2000 miles across the country. I uprooted my kids lives to make him happy. And in the end none of it mattered because he started fucking around with the whore again. This time he left me. He left all of us.

You know what’s funny about it though? I don’t care. Just like the 2 year anniversary of my final D-Day didn’t affect me this year, the four year anniversary didn’t affect me either. It is what it is. I’m hoping that next year I won’t notice the dates at all. That’s not really likely though. I have a great memory. I can, however, let it roll off my back like water off a duck’s back.

My kids started back to school. Picasso began his freshman year of high school and Rock Star began her senior year. Wow!

Sixteen years ago we had moved to a new home in a new state. Rock Star was almost a year old. I saw signs for graduation open houses all over the neighborhood. I remember lamenting to CF, “That’s going to be Rock Star one day!” He told me that she wasn’t even one yet; we still had plenty of time.

Guess what? Time’s up. I’ve got 9 more months with her. She wants to go to college back west so I really will be losing her. 9 more months with this beautiful, funny, sweet, amazing girl of mine. Her dad is missing it all. He lost her 2 years ago. This spring those signs are going to be for her. We’ve got senior pictures scheduled. She’s taking the SAT again next weekend. I’m going to do my best to enjoy this time with her.

And…. CF sent me yet another check for his ridiculous $555.55. I emailed my lawyer the other day to let her know I was up to 5 checks. Now I’m up to 6. I asked her if there was any news about the show-cause hearing. I’m just waiting to hear that there is no point in having a separate hearing because it won’t happen until right before our divorce hearing.

On one hand it would save me money to not have to make yet another trip out there and to pay my lawyer for her time. On the other hand he is once again getting away with financial rape.

His lifestyle hasn’t changed at all while ours has changed tremendously. I’ve done the math. He brings home over $6000 a month. I’ve seen the bank records. She brings home $5000 a month. And she receives child support from her cheated on ex. I would imagine she probably receives around $1000/month for 4 kids. If he keeps sending me a check every week then he’s paying me $2200 a month. They live on approximately $10,000 a month. My kids and I live on less than $3500. That seems fair, don’t you think?

So, the options become take him back to court and spend money I don’t really have to try to make him pay when the judge seems reluctant to put him in jail and CF doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about court orders. Or continue to let him flit about, living his same old lifestyle, blowing money on that fucking whore and kids that aren’t his, and letting him get away with not paying me.

I’ll admit it galls me. I hate that he’s suffering no consequences. His life is going on almost exactly as before. He’s got his new and improved wife and his new and improved (and expanded number of) kids. He’s got no bills except car insurance and a cell phone. She was perfectly able to pay all the household bills on her own before he came along. Which means the two fuckwits are living with an extra five grand each month to just spend on whatever.

Meanwhile, I’m working full-time for $11/hour. I bring home approximately $1400/month. I can’t take my kids to their doctor’s appointments. I missed Picasso’s middle school graduation. I still don’t have much time to get shit done because most of it needs to be done during the day and I’m at work. I can’t volunteer at their school.  All so I can go to work for basically slave wages. It sure as hell isn’t providing a nice lifestyle for us, and if I didn’t live with my mom I’d be living in a homeless shelter because it definitely isn’t enough to pay all my bills and pay rent and utilities.

I suppose that’s yet another rope I’ll have to learn to drop. He lives high on the hog and my kids and I live in poverty until I can finally find something that pays better.

I know it’s not very “meh” of me. The mobster likes to point out to me that I’m still tied very tightly to CF because of the money situation. Believe me I’d love to make enough that I could tell him to go shove it up his ass. But I don’t, and until the divorce is finalized I can’t seem to get a garnishment so he’s free to keep playing with me.

Anyway, on to the future and better things ahead, right?