That night I received umpteen dozen messages varying from the totally pathetic “what have I done wrong” crap to the “why have you done this to me” diatribe. Whatever the tone, the message was the same. He was going to come by the house the next day.
I figured it was a good time to start getting rid of the baggage, literally and figuratively. The former involving giant garbage bags and a few hours in the closet. As I started cramming his clothes into the bags, my girls came into the closet to see what I was up to. I stood there with a bulging garbage bag spewing out the contents of Mort’s cupboards as I told them that Mort wouldn’t be living with us at the house. There was maybe a 5 second silence and then Clare scooped up a pile of his t-shirts and crammed them into the bag exclaiming, “look how much more room you will have in this closet, you can really spread out now,” and on that cue Maddie started filling the empty spaces with my shoes (*).
When he arrived the next day he was irritated that I met him outside, standing next to a pile of stuffed garbage bags with no intention of letting him in the house. He stomped about trying to assert that it was his house as well and that he wanted to go in. I pointed out that given the past few months along with recent revelations that he was extremely fortunate that I hadn’t lit a bonfire out of all his crap on the front lawn (scenes from “War of the Roses” played in my head). This coupled with the fact that legally his name is not on the house deed, he was not getting in that house. He then attempted to change tack into ‘poor me’, as you have gathered that isn’t my soft spot either.
I slammed the door and left him ranting to himself, lugging the garbage bags like a homeless person. Nostradamus armed with a crystal ball and tea-leaves couldn’t have prognosticated this scene more clearly.
(*) Interesting note with the shoes. Mort was not a great fan of me in high heels (he had zero fashion sense and thought heels were a bit ‘showy’), not surprising that I now have a penchant for fabulous high heels…..”hello my pretties”.