August 2005 Archives

Phrase for the day

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Persona Au-Gratin: A person who exhibits, or revels in great cheesy-ness.

Usage: "After Edwin purchased the Paul Anka album "Rock Swings" everyone considered him Persona Au Gratin"

Short (fictional) Story

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When a relationship ends the worst part is property. It all belongs to someone, and figuring out who owns what is the hardest job you will ever face.

In our case it’s a house. All the other stuff – the CD collection (all mine), dishes and knick-knacks will all work out. It’s where we stay that I know is going to be a problem. We can’t both stay here; not forever.

I tried to make things easy by getting out of the bedroom and sleeping on the couch in the living room. It’s not a permanent solution, but it gives me the time to figure things out.

It’s not the best place to get a good night’s rest; the damn thing was build out of horsehair and hardwood in 1973 and it feels like it. Even worse it’s right next to the bedroom, so I can hear every noise she makes in there. I never hear her come home, for all I know she never leaves, but I can hear her in there all night, until I finally fall asleep. I never hear her in the morning – if she gets up, it's after I do, so I am off at work and miss that.

Got to go to work, after all; house payments, electricity bills. All that stuff does not care that your world has fallen apart at the seams. I am pretty sure that I cannot expect to see any kind of a condolences from any of my creditors.

I know that she leaves the bedroom when I am not there; sometimes I will walk down the hallway towards the laundry room and get a hint of Opium.

This arrangement has been in place for months now. Me out here, her in there and out paths don’t cross. Probably that is for the best – I have no idea what I would say to her if I saw her. It’s not that I am mad at her; Yes, I am mad at her. But I really don’t think it’s her fault; I’ve got no right to be mad, or angry or any synonym you could find in Rogets'; "pissed" if you've got a recent version. I’m just sad and disappointed. I’m at a loss for what to do. I know that none of this is her fault.

It’s possible that deciding the sleep on the couch is a poor strategy. It puts me in sight of the computer room – her's on the right and mine on the left. I can see hers from where I lay on the couch - blank screen, cold - when I fall asleep.

Some mornings, when I wake up it’s on – fan humming and screen lit up. Blearily, I will get up and turn it off. It’s tempting to check her history or her email, but honestly I'm afraid of what I might find. So I just turn it off.

Sometimes, after I find her computer on I’ll get an email telling me that she is sorry and that she loves me. That she wishes she could make it right and that everything could just go back to being like it was.

I delete them. I don’t mark them as "junk", because then anything else she sent would get shit-canned before I ever saw it. But I can’t save them, I have to delete them.

You have to understand. it’s been 3 months since I made sure all her email accounts were closed, and over 8 months since the accident – a drunk slammed into her car at 60 miles an hour. They assure me that she died instantly and didn't feel anything.

But in the room next door the sounds continue and these emails still come some mornings. Someday maybe I'll stay home unexpectedly and see what comes out of the bedroom and leaves that trace of Opium in the air. I know though that I will never open the bedroom door.

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This page is an archive of entries from August 2005 listed from newest to oldest.

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