Ain't that just a kick in the teeth?

I had lunch with 'the girls' yesterday. I was gone a few hours. Came home to the Paperweight asleep on the couch and the house trashed. You know, the norm. So I woke him up and asked, "how'd things go?" He ignored me. My kids both greeted me with hugs and asked if I had a good time. We chatted for a little while, then I hung up my coat and started cleaning up the debris. Paperweight storms off. I go outside a couple minutes later for a smoke and he comes out and starts on me; why am I so pissed off? why am I giving him an attidute? you know, the norm. I, irrational woman that I am, asked him what in the hell he was talking about. The cleaning. That's what did it. He "knew" I was pissed at him because I started cleaning the house. Duh, why didn't I figure that one out on my own. So I did what I've been doing lately - refused to fight. He's following me around the house trying to pick so I'd just pick myself up and go somewhere else. About 6:30 that evening, I see him put on his coat and head out the door. Not a word about where he was going.

He came home at 11 am this morning.

Yep, you read that correctly. I tried his cell three times between 6 am when I awoke to find him still gone and 11 - no answer, no return call.

I was livid.

Okay, call me a heartless bitch - you may be thinking, accident? illness? did he drop dead? I considered those things briefly, then decided I'm just not that damn lucky. The third and final message (about 20 minutes before he came home) said "Your shit's on the back porch. If it's still there tonight, I'm throwing it away." And yes, his shit really was on the back porch. With his wedding ring propped on top. You know that ring? the one he said he lost but I found it in his sock drawer? Yeah, that wedding ring.

Anyway, about 11 am I hear a noise at my front door. It was him but he couldn't get in because I had the screen door locked. I guess his intention was to just saunter in 16 hours later like nothing had happened. I sent the kids to play in the other room and informed him through the window that his shit was on the backporch. He took his shit and left.

I talked to him via phone a couple hours later. He asked if he could come see the kids and grab some more stuff. I said fine, but you need to leave your house keys and take your bills with you. He came, I disappeared in the bedroom, he spent some time with the kids. Grabbed his belt on the way out the door, left the bills, kept his house keys. After he was gone, I was informed by our son, "Dad says he's moving out. He got an apartment by my school. Are you guys getting divorced?"