Clean House

It is sad, at least to me, when you realize a ship like that has sailed. An opportunity has been lost. It feels like one more link in a chain the likes of the one schlepped around by Jacob Marley in the hereafter. This is how regrets are born.

But in a year of so many hurts and losses, this was just one more turd on the pile. One more carcass on the heap. I put it in perspective and accepted it for what it was.

More recently, I have been much more motivated to sweep away all the lingering evidence that J. was ever in my life at all. Shrink him like the wart he is. Finish unfinished business. Sever connections. Remove contact information. Return or discard belongings and such.

J. however has done his darndest to prolong the process. Not cooperated. Made excuses. Obstructed. Insisted on alternatives. Forced me to make some pretty menacing ultimatums.

But I owe it to myself to be done with him. Enjoy some finality. A door slammed shut and locked tight for good so I can fling other doors wide open ad enjoy every moment without the burdens and encumbrances and obstacles J. has become so famous for.

And I owe it to Scott. It is unfair for me to expect him to be comfortable in my home if there are ghosts of J. floating around (and surely they’d be smoking). I may not even see them anymore, but it’s for sure he would. And frankly, he was kind enough to do similarly for me. There is absolutely no lingering evidence of the former Mrs. in his home. He even repainted the whole house! I am not sure how I’d feel if there was any indication that she was there. He’s spared me the experience of learning that.

But J. seems to think, however naively, that all of this effort is a waste. That I will come to my senses and return to him (I have come to my senses…that is why your shit is in a box on your mother’s steps, moron!) And he uses some of the more stubborn issues to try to jump up and down and wave his scrawny little arms in my face.

But I will not be deterred. I can be exceptionally tenacious. I will soon enjoy the day when I never voluntarily or involuntarily devote so much as a speck of gray matter to J. or any of his pathetic little sycophant family members.

And then one day recently, when I’d set aside a little time to check one more annoyance off the list of so many, I had occasion to speak to one of J’s so-called friends. This friend – whose loyalty is nebulous at best – confided some pretty condemning information about J. Information that is so troubling, that I felt morally bound not to keep it confidential.

I thought for a moment. I thought for a day.

I composed my thoughts. I slept on them.

And then I contacted Sandy.