Tomorrow the man who loves me will move in temporarily while he recuperates from lung cancer surgery

2007: The 30-year marriage ended. Husband ensconced with a 34-year-old. Somewhere in the timeline that ensued, I'm pretty sure I told everyone that all I wanted was dinner los angeles city fire department and sex (not necessarily in that order) and a sign to hang on my bathroom door that said "Check-out time 12 noon." A lot has happened since then.
Tomorrow the man who loves me will move in temporarily while he recuperates from lung cancer surgery. Everything is so fucking temporary. You are temporary. I am temporary. And yet, we are permanent, too. If I had a sign to hang on my bathroom door now, maybe it would say, "Welcome to the Hotel California. los angeles city fire department You can check out any time you want, but you can never leave."
Writer, recovering wife, dog lover, traveler, poetry reader, flower fancier, wannabe los angeles city fire department fisherwoman and sailor, caregiver to my 89-year-old mother, seasoned margarita drinker, vegetarian Thanksgiving turkey eater (please do NOT pass the Tofurky,) Francophile, thinker, reader, neat freak very lazy cook.
August 10, 2007: Unable to bear the sight of my bed, unable to sleep, and prone to walking in circles in my house, I fly to the east coast to visit my mother los angeles city fire department and begin a series of travels, visiting anyone who will have me.
September 25, 2008: I sit bolt upright los angeles city fire department in the middle of the night and decide to start a blog. I know the title, "His Big Fat Indian Wedding," and the pseudonym under which I will write it-- "Ex-in-the-City."
October 14, 2011: Judgement on "reserved issues" (a.k.a. the financial stuff/joint assets) is officially entered with Los Angeles Superior Court. In addition, I am now under a restraining order that requires me to change the name of my blog, and refrain from mentioning certain persons in it.
Somewhere in here, as the daylight hours begin to shorten, my attorneys officially withdraw from the case. I am on my own to finish dealing with the QDRO and the attorney who is handling that. The QDRO is amended, at the request of the opposing side, to say that if I die before the QDRO is implemented, my share will not pass to my daughters, los angeles city fire department but instead will revert to my ex-husband. Paranoia steps into the ring and gives anxiety some competition.
February 1, 2012: I follow the instructions in the QDRO attorney's letter in order to receive my share of the retirement accounts by making los angeles city fire department the necessary phone call. "The information is being forwarded to the actuaries," I'm told. "It will take a few days." I begin to be more careful los angeles city fire department when crossing the street.
February 14, 2012: I call again regarding the retirement accounts. "The actuaries have requested more information." But I'm assured I will receive the information this week. I continue to exercise caution. I wear orange when I'm out walking. Then wonder if that just makes me a better target.
February 26, 2012: Realizing there is no motivation for The Someone to close the joint credit card, I do it. I also pay 3,000.00 on the balance in an effort to improve my credit score and to compensate The Someone for the inconvenience.
March 1, 2012: Another call regarding my share of the retirement accounts. Now "it may take several weeks." Whatever "it" is. I wear camoflage when out walking and think about writing a murder mystery.
March 7, 2012: I make another call regarding the retirement accounts. "There are documents that must be produced." I'm assured that I will get the necessary information on the "defined benefit plan" next week. I wear white when walking and am certain to have a copy of my insurance card on me at all times.
March 14, 2013: After weeks of pondering and a nasty struggle to re-fi my mortgage in which the underwriter designates my income as unreliable due to the fact that my actual alimony no longer matches the amount entered in court documents los angeles city fire department , I re-engage my divorce attorney.
July 23, 2013: My attorney finally wrestles tax returns from The Someone. Not only is he not paying the court ordered alimony-- he owes me a portion of his bonus from two prior years. Divorceville--right down the road from Margaritaville.
"The Sea Question" The sea asks "How is your life now?" It does so obliquely, changing colour. It is never the same on any two visits. It is never the same in any particular Only in generalities: tide and such matters Wave height and suction, pebbles that rattle. It doesn't presume to wear a white coat But it questions you like a psychologist As you walk beside it on its long couch.
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