cleaning the corner.

Mum and Dad bought the house a Christmas tree today. I was vaguely awake when they left, thought I’d lie in a little longer, and just when I was ready to get up… they were back. What? That’s the fastest they ever did it, I’ll tell you. I asked Mum, “Did you buy the first tree you saw?”

I guess she did. Damn.

So then Dad decided this was the day to take his PC and one more useless machine over to the love nest. In order to extricate his computers, we had to dismantle the entire setup. Never, but never, get in my way when it comes to untangling hopeless messes. I know how to do it and I know how to reorganize it so it’s not as hopeless after. He found this out rather quickly. Well, it’s not as if he was going to have to live with the results of his own mess.

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Here’s what it looked like most of the way through. It had been vacuumed at that point, and Dad had made a half-hearted attempt to clean up years of dust and cobwebs. Ended up elbowing him aside, taking up the broom, and mucking the hell IN. He’s prone to focusing on the details, and this was a big-picture job.

We had to put it all back together in the end, minus his computer. He tried to push me out of the way and do it himself, which, no. I’m the one who has to know how it goes together from now on. I made him tell me, so I could learn it by feel. It was logical enough once I did it. That’s how I learn.

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And that’s how it looks now. Well, how it looked this afternoon. Obviously, we aren’t done, but a whole lot more of his crap is gone. — No, it’s not worth terribly much, in case you are thinking in terms of division of assets. He left me his laptop in trade, which is way better. Next week we’ll move Mum’s computer into that space, and she will have the fancy chair for Christmas if nothing else, you rat. Then I’ll shift the rest of the junk onto a drop cloth and figure out what to keep. THEN I’ll have to clean out and take down the other hutch (practically destroyed already), for a midnight run to someone’s dumpster. [cough]

He’s moving out piece by piece. I feel oddly lighter as he does it. I need these hits of reality. They’re like heroin. The more we separate our households, the more it becomes clear that this divorce is going forward — especially to my mother, who is likely still in denial about a few things. She needs to move on. We all do. He moves out, we move on, I have a clearer picture of the future. Win-win-win.

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