Taking Out the Garbage

I live in an apartment complex. I used to live in a house deep in the woods. The house was cute, but I admit freely that I missed being able to have pizza delivered or to "run" to the grocery. Folks, we are talking OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. As in, when Ariana was three years old, she woke me up excitedly because a bear was tossing our garbage can across the yard. We also had frequent sightings of wild turkey and deer, plus a racoon who toddled across our porch every night (eventually with babies, too). Therefore, when I finally had a job and could move out of the house, I did. The Ex loved the house more. I like hiking and I like nature. I don't like nature tossing my garbage can across the yard, however. I'm not an irrational nor an unfair human being, and the only reason that I should keep the house over him when he valued it so much more was spite. It just made more sense that he keep the house and give me my half of the equity instead.

Today, while I gathered up the garbage, I chuckled to myself because I remembered some exchanges around the time that I had announced to my Ex that we were over, through, fini, end of the line, thankyouverymuchhaveaniceday. Yes, truly, when you can sit around and laugh about aspects of the dissolution of your marriage, you KNOW you've come a long way.

I remember the first absolute words out of my Ex's mouth when I told him in no uncertain terms: this is it. I want a divorce. I had grumbled about one before, but I never told him for sure that I had thrown in the towel. This day, I made it clear. I was sitting down in a chair when I told him, and he was standing up near me. He's a tall man (especially since I'm incredibly short) and really, it felt like he was looming over me...but in a very non-threatening way. He looked rather lost, actually. My jaw was jutted out determinedly, and there I was spelling it out for him: D-I-V-O-R-C-E! What was his first reply? His mouth dropped open. His eyes flew wide. He looked like he was at a loss for words. Then, he finally managed to say...

...BUT WHO WILL DO MY LAUNDRY???

Now, I am very proud of myself. I did not laugh in his face, making a bad situation worse. It tempted me greatly. I suppose if I told my Ex today about how amusing I found that, he'd state he was joking when he said it. Folks, let me insist to you that I know my Ex very, very well (like, I met him when I was 16 and I'm 35 now). He was NOT joking. THAT is why I was trying so hard not to laugh! He wasn't losing a wife...he was losing a nanny and a maid! In fact, throughout the entire week afterwards, I heard him mumbling related things like, "I will have to go to the grocery store? I will have to pay the bills? I will have to pack my own lunch?" Yes, yes, yes. Nobody tell me that I was his mother at that point. I'm well aware. Hindsight is 20/20, after all. For the entire time we were married until I moved out, the Ex did a total of five (5) loads of laundry. Why did he do ANY laundry when I was so slave worthy to do it typically? Well, each time it was related to me being gone visiting family or whatnot and he had no choice. He never packed his lunches for work. He never wrote a check nor paid any of the bills nor even knew what our bills were or the amount I dished out each month for our mortgage.

He unloaded the dishwasher one (1) time in the entirety of my years with him. That includes the time we lived together while engaged, too (I was 22 when we were engaged). I had flown out with a little infant Jared to visit friends in Seattle; Ariana, three years of age, had stayed home with her father. I came home and was shocked to find that the dishwasher that I had started running before I left was unloaded! How, I pondered? The Ex never USED the kitchen except to heat up a frozen pizza or grab a drink (to be fair, he also occasionally came in there to pull out meat from the freezer to grill out...he's good at grilling). How would the Ex know where anything was besides a) the cups b) the plates c) the silverware or d) the bbq tools? But not only was the dishwasher empty, the items that were once inside were now in their rightful place! Stunned, I asked him how he knew where everything went...he mumbled at me. I asked again. He mumbled again, looking embarrassed.

Apparently, his three year old daughter told him where everything went. After all, SHE had helped me unload the dishwasher before! I was proud of her. She even knew where to stick odd items like the cheese slicer. That's my girl!

There were several things in the house that were considered the Ex's job. I can list them off for you. A) grilling out, should we want grilled out food; b) taking out the garbage to the dump (a pain to do since there is no pick up in the woods...you DRIVE the garbage to the dump); and c) starting up the fireplace in the winter. There you go. EVERY OTHER THING you can list off for the house or running a household I did. Note this list. It becomes important.

Back to the garbage. So, as I drag out my bags to take to the dumpster, I start laughing because I remember what happened at the end of the week after I announced my intent to leave and get a divorce. After mumbling over and over and over again all these things I did that he'd have to do, finally he realizes...he's not helping his case at all. He tells me, well, then you'll also miss what *I* do in this house! I raised an eyebrow at him (my left one...that's how you know I mean business. I have a little mole I'm very fond of over my left eyebrow, and if I raise that eyebrow, it almost makes it seem like the point on an upside-down exclaimation point! haha!). I asked quietly, "Really? Like WHAT do you think I'll miss you doing?" He replied triumphantly, "You'll have to take the garbage to the dump on your own! Load it up in the car, throw it in the dump, every week to two weeks like I do!" I laughed.

"Dear, you realize the apartment complexes have dumpsters, right? I don't have to haul my garbage anywhere. And if I buy a house in town, the garbage men do that for me if I take it to the curb."

"Oh," he replied, looking much like a puppy that had been kicked, slinking off. And once again, I was quite proud of myself because I managed not to continue to laugh. I'm good like that...sometimes.

So yeah. For the record, I'm cool with taking my garbage out all by my big girl self. Somehow...somehow...I manage!