Money can't buy you love; or a divorce either, it seems (aka The post where I say fuck a lot)

I have discovered over the last two weeks that I wasted a whole lot of money this year. How, you ask? I tried to divorce my husband. I've heard some of you say (and even post it on your blogs) that divorce costs so much because it's worth it. And you know, I used to believe that. However, when you shell out big bucks and nothing changes...well, isn't that just a big fucking waste?

As you know, The Paperweight is a lazy fucking slob. As you also know, The Paperweight picks up The Girl and takes her to preschool every day. What you may not know, is that in the time it takes for him to get her dressed for school and leave, he manages to trash every room in my house. The worst? The Girl occassional wets the bed still and The Paperweight, under the guise of being helpful,

::okay, let's all take a moment to laugh until we snort on that one::

against my pleadings not to, The Paperweight insists on stripping down her bed. I know what you are thinking, 'that's not so bad'...except you don't realize, dear reader, that The Paperweight has no concept on what a hamper looks like nor where to find one. And there is no use showing him because after 1.5 decades of trying to teach him, I have found that this is information he simply can not retain. So what happens to the peed on soaking wet sheets and blankets? They end up on the floor...my fucking dining room floor. Why? I have no clue. Is it a matter of convenience? Nope. He has to walk out of The Girl's room, past the bathroom with the hamper in it, through the living room, and then to the dining room to dump said laundry. So every fucking day, I get to arrive home after 13 hours of being away, and am greeted to pee stinky laundry in my dining room. Yippee Fucking Yea.

I also discovered in this past week that The Paperweight has still not learned how to manage money. This is nothing new. He was severly in debt when we got together, I got him out, then took over all financial dealings because, well, he was an idiot and we would have gone bankrupt otherwise. We still argued about money over the years because he couldn't understand why I wanted to stick money in The Boy's college fund rather then buy him a flat screen tv. Once, he even secretly applied for a credit card, went out and bought $1000 worth of new clothes, and then would throw away the bill when it came so I wouldn't know. Um, yeah.

So last week, I started getting phone calls from a creditor. It seems that The Paperweight, after moving out, got yet another credit card. And apparently, not only hasn't he found it necessary to make any fucking payments, he was kind enough to give them my phone number when he sent in the application.

I've explained to them the situation each time they call, but it's always a different person and I guess the information never gets updated or something. Who knows. They've each been very nice to me, however, and they are only doing their jobs so it's hard to get mad at them. The Paperweight does not even have a home phone number that I can give out. However, I decided last night that if he's been kind enough to give out my personal unlisted phone number to his creditors, it would be more then fair for me to start handing out his cell and work numbers to said creditors the next time they call.