The Ex-Files – Installment #5

My last installment of the Ex-Files was after we started a family. If you missed it you can find it here:

CP’s first wife cheated on him and I guess he expected me to do the same. He always seemed to have questions about where I was or what I was doing. I could tell he was suspicious many times but I kept my mouth shut.

Now, let me just say that I have never nor would I ever, cheat on a guy. If I have a problem with a guy or just don’t want to see him anymore, then I would most definitely be honest about it. I wouldn’t go behind his back and cheat. What the hell is the point in that?

This incident happened in the first 5 years of our relationship before we started having kids. So, on with this story….

While I was busting my ass working a part-time job, plus cleaning houses, and babysitting, CP was running his own automotive repair shop, which was a joke. He never did any of the work. I had even lent a helping hand and worked in the office answering the phone on days I didn’t have any other jobs to do. That got old quick.

CP decided to hire a guy he knew from school to help out at the shop. He felt bad for the guy. His name was Ken. He was a nice guy I suppose. He had split from his wife and he needed a job to help support his 2-year-old daughter. He also needed a place to stay. So, what did CP do? He told Ken he could stay with us. He didn’t even run it by me first. I should have cold-cocked him with a frying pan a long time ago.

Well, my peaceful little sanctuary of an apartment became an uncomfortable and awkward place to be. Ken slept on the couch, just within earshot of the bedroom. He rarely bathed so my couch eventually started to smell like ass. Literally. He got on my nerves because he was always there. We had no privacy. He was always helping himself to whatever we had in the refrigerator. He never stopped talking. He was a pain in the ass to have around all the time. He stayed with us for weeks…and weeks….

One day, I was leaving CP’s shop and Ken needed to go change his clothes or something so he could go somewhere. I don’t recall those details. I was going home anyway, so I offered him a ride. CP knew Ken was leaving with me. He never said anything or even showed any disapproval. I never thought anything of it. I was just being me.

So, we got to the apartment and I grabbed something for lunch while Ken did whatever…. I finished my lunch and then I left. What went on after that, I have no clue. When I got home just an hour or so later, CP was sitting on the living room floor feeling the carpet.

I just stopped and thought for a moment, “What the fuck is he doing?” He was the only one home. Ken was gone, thank goodness. CP said there was a wet spot on the floor. Then it dawned on me. He thinks…no, he couldn’t think that. Why would he think that I could…. I couldn’t even go there in my mind let alone say it aloud. He thought that I cheated on him with Ken, on the floor. OMG. Ewww. The guy who smelled like ass. The guy who stunk up my couch. Holy crap. How could he think such a thing when he knows that I was sick of looking at that guy every damn day?

I thought to myself, this is going to stop right now. I confronted him and said, “I know what you’re thinking and you’d better not even go there! I am not going to be accused of cheating AGAIN!”

This was NOT the first time he had accused me of cheating. The first time was a couple of years earlier when he found a pair of my undies under the couch cushion. He jumped to the conclusion that I had hid them there. He figured the only reason for me to hide them was that I had cheated and needed to hide the evidence. Dumb shit. Why wouldn’t I have just put them in the laundry hamper? Anyway, I had to remind him of the laundry I had dumped on the end of the couch the week prior that sat there for days and days because I was too lazy to pick them up and put them away. A pair of undies probably just got pushed down between the cushions and I didn’t realize it when I finally put the laundry away. Geez.

Anyway, that accusation was put to rest, as was the “wet spot” incident. CP apologized both times. I tried several times over the years to make him understand that I am not like his ex and that if I didn’t want to be with him then I would have left him. I would not have cheated. That’s just not who I am.

Now, I know not all men are assholes but my ex was, and most likely still is. I don’t know if he became someone else’s problem or not but I hope she didn’t forget he was an asshole like I always did!








RIP Korn, My Bubbers

My heart is breaking, yet again. On Wednesday, I said goodbye to my 15-1/2-year-old, Korn. He had kidney disease and arthritis in his back legs. He was not the happy cat he once was. His health had been declining since they were all sick last February. I knew it was just a matter of time before he would be suffering, so I made the difficult decision to let him go. I had been agonizing over it for weeks.

This is an older pic of him when he was younger and happy. I hope he knows how much I love him and will miss him. I hope Korn and his bud, Fuzzy have met up and are swapping stories about how they chased rabbits together or how they drove me nuts wanting out and coming in again, over and over.




Image Copyright Being Aunt Debbie




Ringing In The New Year

While most people were out celebrating at parties with friends and/or family, I was home with my Dad getting shit-faced drunk! Yep. You read that right.

We were in a bit of a predicament over the weekend. We were running very low on propane and that is our primary source of heat. The weather was bitingly cold and we were having to conserve as much propane as possible while waiting for the propane delivery guy. It’s the busy season and they are hauling ass trying to get to everyone — but as I write this, our propane has still not been delivered!

The temperature ranged from a high of 25 degrees down to a low of -10! I can’t recall ever having -10 degree temps in the 25 years I have lived here! It was a LONG weekend. We were bundled up, wearing the thickest, most winterized clothing we could find. We used the propane heat to warm up the house first thing in the mornings and then later in the evenings. In between, we used electric heaters which didn’t really cut the mustard. We were cold but we weren’t freezing.

Anyway, on a biting 9 degree New Year’s Eve, Dad and I decided to ring in the new year with a bottle of champagne and strawberry daiquiris! The alcohol lifted our spirits, warmed our innards, and made for some good story-telling and laughter!


Ba Hum Bug or Why I Hate The Holidays

I used to love this time of year! When my kids were little, Christmas was a blast! We always decorated the house and put up a tree. We had certain traditions that we carried on through the years; new traditions and old traditions from when I was a child. We made cookies and popcorn cake. We made handmade pizza on Christmas Eve and watched Christmas movies like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and the original Grinch That Stole Christmas and others. We always had a little talk about what Christmas was all about and we watched a little movie about Jesus. Seeing the excitement on the kids’ faces as Christmas approached was amazing which made up for the work and stress of preparing for this special day!

As the years went by, the holidays became more stressful and less fun because the kids were older and you know how hard it is to shop for teenagers! They are very hard to please at times and it was so stressful trying to make things special for them. They were never, EVER, ungrateful but things just weren’t the same as when they were small.

After the kids left home and started giving me grandchildren, I started getting excited again about the holidays. But things went sour after only a couple Christmases and well, I won’t go into that because it’s still very raw. I got 2 Christmases with grandson #1 and now I rarely see him. I don’t even have a relationship with him. I’m not treated as family but more of an outsider. I got a few Christmases with granddaughter, but now she is being raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, which means no more holidays with her. (For the record, I don’t have a problem with JW specifically.) I do have a relationship with my granddaughter, though. She’s my sweetheart and we are very close. Grandson #3 is out of state with his mother. I can understand no holidays with him because kids and their parents move out of state all the time. I have to say I feel robbed not being able to celebrate holidays with the other 2 grandkids since they are both just 30 minutes away.

I haven’t put up a tree in probably 6 years. What’s the point? It’s just my dad and I and maybe my son for a short time. I always buy a few gifts but it’s just not the same without the kids and grandkids. It’s depressing and I just want to crawl in a hole until it’s all over and the new year starts. You may be thinking I should put up a tree anyway because it might make me feel better. Well, maybe. But maybe it will make the depression worse. I don’t know. Besides, I am disabled and I just can’t be doing that kind of thing anymore.

Anyway, I just grin and bear it and wait for it to pass….with a little help from my therapist and Captain Morgan.

Ba-Hum-Bug and cheers!


                           Photo Courtesy of Captain Morgan


What A Crappy Day!

Dad and I went out this morning. We did a little shopping and had lunch at one of our favorite places. The air was cold but the wind was biting.

We stopped at a Dollar Tree, not because we’re cheap, but because they have some good stuff in there for just $1! I mean, why pay $3 or $4 for a damn greeting card when the Dollar Tree has a large assortment for just $1? Oh and some of them are 2 for $1. So there. Anyway, we had to park what seemed like a mile away and that’s always rough on me since I walk with a cane – and slowly. So, Dad gets to the door first and he’s waiting for me so he can open the door. He’s a gentleman still, even at age 80. So he’s standing there waiting for me and this woman comes barreling out of the store, pushing the door open like she was going to push someone off a cliff! I mean WHAM! She nearly hit Dad in the face with the door and she’s damn lucky she didn’t. He managed to jump back just in time. There could have been a small child there, or someone disabled like me standing in the line of fire. She could have seriously injured someone! She never even looked to see if someone was coming in nor did she even realize what she did – no apologies, no nothing. Ugh.

We stopped at the restaurant next. The food was good, as always. Service was a little slow but they were pretty busy, no big deal. When we left, I started feeling a rumbling in my stomach. I didn’t think much of it as I had a surgery some time ago for a herniated stomach, which means that I am not able to belch efficiently. So I get gassy quicker and more often than most people. On top of that, I eat way too fast (because I hate cold food) and swallow too much air, making me even gassier. Ha! I know, TMI. Anyway, nothing out of the ordinary really. The drive to get home is about 50 minutes. We weren’t 10 minutes out of town and I realized…. Uh oh. I may have a problem. 

The gas is building so I asked Dad to fish out my gas relief tablets from my purse. He did and I took 3 with hopes that it would settle things a bit.

Nope. No such luck. The drive was the most uncomfortable drive! My stomach was cramping up and I hoped that what I thought would happen, wouldn’t.

A few minutes later, still no relief. I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me. The drive seemed to go from 50 minutes long to 150 minutes! I didn’t think we’d ever get home. Would I make it? I sure hoped so.

10 miles to go. My stomach is still cramping and I’m afraid I’m not going to make it!

6 more miles to go. Not gonna make it, I thought.

4 miles more….. OMG! Not gonna make it! 

We turned onto our road and it started to happen.

OMG! I told Dad to hurry and get the front door unlocked because I had to make a mad dash for the toilet…..but remember I’m walking with a cane, and very slowly so the mad dash was more of a turtle’s walk.

OMG. Didn’t make it.

Hence the title of this post.