Yesterday at work was completely and utterly without incident. It was so peaceful and happy that it really was quite remarkable.
The bruise on my calf from where the muscle snapped is now a tennis ball sized navy circle. However, I am walking much better. The muscle that snapped is also the one that the sciatic nerve travels through… no coincidence I suspect… so I’m all twingy and twangy and the foot numbness is pretty bad. Still it’s good to be able to walk faster than a constipated snail and I get fifteen metres at a time when I’m not even limping at all. Especially on level ground.
Keith just brought me coffee, happy child. Katie, of course, is absent and hasn’t called. She must be pretty confused right now. The next 85 words deleted because they aren’t sufficiently constructive and respectful.
I came back into the house when I missed my bus. Then the phone rang and Paul said he’d give me a lift. A week ago I would have passed. But things have changed, as always.
The other night the kids called a family meeting and essentially read us the riot act.
Her Majesty the Queen charges and commands all persons being assembled immediately to disperse and peaceably to depart to their habitations or to their lawful business on the pain of being guilty of an offence for which, on conviction, they may be sentenced to imprisonment for life. GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.
Or to the like effect. Essentially, they don’t give a shit if Paul and I are having trouble living together; they want us to keep the peace and stay in the house. Katie isn’t so attached to the house but she’s much attached to peacefulness (rude, unconstructive comment here deleted…). So now we’re in non-non-divorce territory; we can’t divorce because we aren’t married and we can’t split up because of our extremely convenient living arrangements as itemized by our children, who see their comfortable berth during the next phase of their schooling evaporating if we split. However, thanks to the wonders of the Inertnest, it turns out that a non non divorce is completely normal, and how couples did things anyways before divorce was popularized by a particularly scummy brand of shyster, operating in cahoots with the MSM.
So, we still have to hammer out a separation agreement and there are other domestic issues hanging fire, but it was very bizarre having my domestic arrangements critiqued with such relentless and dispassionate efficiency by my children; it could only happen to me and Paul.
3 thoughts on “As predicted”
To the last phrase, probably. To the rest, oh.
Watched an episode of Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In last night. There was a sketch in which the characters’ dialogue was nothing but Oh, repeatedly. Apply the relevant intonations to the above oh and you will get my meaning.
My ex-husband & I split when my daughter was 2.5 years old. When Jenn was 3 I dated a man named John and when I broke up with him Jenn pushed me down the front steps of our townhouse — off she went to classes for “Children of Separated and Divorced Parents”. When Jenn was just turning 4, I met Jim. Jim and I have been together ever since. Jenn has always harboured a hope that her Dad and I would get back together. In her teen years and before, she insisted relentlessly that we fix up the basement so that her father could move in and we could all live under one roof as one big happy family. Questions like “don’t you think this would make Jim uncomfortable?” etc. didn’t seem to be of any consequence. So … yes I can actually picture your kids asking you to live under one roof even if you are “split up” without batting an eyelash.