Summer in the City…

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Greetings all! It’s been a while since I’ve blogged.  I read Chris’ latest post on Walking the Journey today which inspired me to write a post of my own. She always gets me thinking!  But, after looking over my last couple of posts, the following nonsense started flowing out, so I will get to my other post later.

I read the last post where my son found my blog.  Then there was the post where I had been out with my husband and twisted my foot.  That was Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.  The next morning, Sunday, I woke up and couldn’t put any pressure on my foot. I literally crawled around on the floor.  I made coffee, went on Facebook and made a plea:  ‘If anyone local has a crutches I can borrow, please DM me.”  My friend Karen texted and said she had a boot from when she broke her ankle. She offered to bring it to me in a few hours.  I took a bottle of Kim Crawford rose, put it in an ice bucket, got a bag of ice and sat on my deck.  My foot was iced and so was my wine.  As soon as Karen brought the boot and got it on my foot, it was 100% relief.  I could walk!

We drank wine, I made a delicious lobster salad and enjoyed a lovely afternoon.  I had chosen not to go to the ER.  It would have been a $200 co-pay to sit and wait for hours, on a holiday weekend, with all sick people, just to get an x-ray, boot or crutches with a follow up to an orthopedic.  I now had a boot! So I called my doctor on Tuesday and had an appointment Wednesday morning. The x-ray confirmed a break and I was referred to an orthopedic, saving $200 in the process.

I google everything. I had diagnosed myself with a Jones’ fracture.

A Jones fracture is a specific type of fracture involving the fifth metatarsal bone of the foot. It is distinguished from other types of fractures involving the foot as it is located within an area of this bone that is difficult to heal.

The orthopedic PA I saw confirmed my diagnosis. He said I had the correct boot.  Everything I read about a Jones fracture said at least 8 weeks recovery, most likely 12 and the PA confirmed that.  However, it seems I have been healing well and at the last appointment, 5 weeks post injury, I was told I could abandon the boot as long as I wore a supportive shoe such as a Birkenstock. No problem, I have a couple of pairs of Birkenstock sandals.   My attractive (wink) PA also told me I had pretty much no restrictions, just be careful on stairs and uneven ground.

In spite of my foot, I continued to work around the yard, finish planting my garden and touching up my outdoor improvements in the yard.  Last year, I built a bar on my deck.  Actually, my neighbor built the base of the bar nearly 10 years ago, but I improved it! I immersed myself in this project, most likely to put my husband’s infidelity out of my mind.  I physically exhausted myself, working in the hot weather, as a distraction to keep my mind from returning to thoughts of my husband’s infidelity.  I put a roof on the bar, decorated it with a tiki theme, built a fire pit and added two raised bed veggie gardens.  There were a few ‘tweaks’ to make but the bulk of the work was done and I was determined to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

While I live in the city, when you walk into my backyard, it looks like Gilligan’s Island.  I planted mandavillas, hibiscus, and rose bushes.  I have established flower beds with coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, day lilies, hydrangeas and hostas.  The 2 cherry trees and 3 pine trees host several varieties of birds including Baltimore Orioles, Robins, Blue Jays and even a pair of Cedar Waxwings.  There are baby birds all over my yard.

I have my coffee on the deck in the morning. I read a little in the afternoon. I’ve had friends over for dinners and lunches.  If I was placed on home confinement, I would not have a problem with that. Between Peapod delivering groceries, Drizly delivering booze, and Amazon delivering everything else, I’d be all set!

Earlier in July, I noticed that it seemed there were less goldfish in my very small pond.  At first I didn’t think much of it.  But then, a couple of days later, two of my pond plants were out of their pots, floating around.  My fountain was crooked.  My water hyacinths were torn up and there were a large number of fish missing.  WTF.  Something got in my pond, but what?  I confirmed my suspicion via Google.  I was sure I had a fucking raccoon fishing in my pond.  A couple of nights later, as I was cleaning my bathroom, I glanced out of the window.  I was shocked to see at least 6 if not 8 raccoons meandering over to the pond!  I ran outside yelling, banging on the rail of the deck while my younger son Marc was laughing hysterically.  I scared them off for the time being.  In 20 years living here, I had never seen a raccoon before.  That night I saw at least 6.

Against my husband’s wishes, I fished the big Have-A-Heart trap out of the shed and set it.  Nothing for a few days except a couple of rats.  My husband was pissed.  He wanted nothing to do with my wildlife trapping.  I gave the rats a burial at sea (drowned them in a garbage can) and then deposited them in a city trash can at the bus stop up the street.

Several nights later and as I cleaned up in the kitchen after dinner, I looked out of the window and saw a parade of raccoons walking through the yard.  I yelled to my husband that they were back.  We all ran to the deck and heard the metal of the trap clanging and then saw the raccoons turn around and run out of the yard.  I caught a youngster in the trap.  My husband, who told me if I catch anything, I have to get rid of it, said ‘I’m leaving, I have to get to the office, you deal with it.’

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So I did. After I took a few photos, I put the trap in a garbage can, loaded it in the trunk of my station wagon with Marc and we took it for a ride to an isolated country location and let it go.

They’ve still been coming back, dwindling my fish population down to a hardy 8 or so that know to go hide if anything comes near.  I brought out all 3 of my traps and set them up, but those raccoons are pretty smart and even though I’ve moved and camouflaged the traps, they seem to know to avoid them.  In the past few weeks, I’ve caught a few more rats and even my little baby bunny George who resides in my yard.  I let him out.

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George – Isn’t he cute? 

I caught a young possum one day, whom I also released as possums eat rats. Then I caught a young groundhog which we took for a ride and let go.  Last Friday, I noticed my medium trap was shut. I went to take a closer look and saw the ground around it all dug up.  Uh oh…

Yup, saw the black and white fur.  I caught a skunk.  My husband said, ‘now what are you going to do?’.  Grab the camera of course.  I took my phone and my Nikon outside.  There was a big planter and bushes that hid the trap a bit.  According to Google, they won’t spray if they can’t see you.  I was about to test that theory.  I talked to him, calling him by name (Mr. Skunk and Pepe LePew).  He was pretty calm and responded to my voice by peeking out of the trap. I took a few photos with the phone and even used the flash on my Nikon.  He didn’t seem overly bothered.  I used a bamboo tomato stake to open the trap and prop it open but he didn’t try to leave. So I got another stake and opened the other side of the trap, where I was standing and ran back into the house.

An hour later, I went to inspect the trap expecting to find the skunk gone but instead, Pepe LePew was taking a nap!  So I got a third bamboo stake and proceeded to prod Pepe.  I tried to be gentle and still was talking to him as I poked him and backed him out of the trap.  I retreated once I saw he was out of the trap and got a photo of him walking against the fence and he went on his merry way.  No spraying, no problem.

I reset the traps Friday night.  On Saturday, I got up at 7am and noticed the big trap was closed.  Yay! I caught one of those damned raccoons.  I went out on the deck to get a closer look.  Fuck.  Pepe LePew was back and was pacing around in the trap.  This was a problem.  The smaller trap had limited mobility for Pepe.  He could very easily spray me in the bigger trap.  Luckily I had placed cut bushes on the trap giving a bit of cover.  I got an old beach towel, walked towards the trap with the towel in front of me, reassured Pepe that ‘everything was going to be alright’, and gently covered the trap with the towel.  I then opened the trap and propped it open with a piece of wood and backed off, watching Pepe calmly walk out of the trap.

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I’ve set the traps every night since and it looks like Pepe learned his lesson.  Still no raccoons, but my neighbor told me this morning that her dog was sprayed last night by a skunk!  Oops!

I love to cook and the bar has been filled with friends several times a week. We grill pizzas, make healthy keto friendly salads, desserts and cocktails!  At night, I will sometimes sit on the deck with a glass of wine, listening to the sound of the water fountain in my little pond and feeling lucky to have a little piece of paradise.  I’ve concocted two versions of delicious summer drinks, a strawberry martini and spicy margarita, both keto friendly and am quite content these days.  This weekend we will be heading north for our annual week long family vacation in the mountains.

In the meantime, I will be writing a response to Chris’ post.  I have been trying to catch up a bit on the Twitter threads I have missed. Evidently there is quite a stir with my ‘tribe’ about ‘teams’, snide remarks, blocking, etc.  I noticed that there are several tweets unavailable, on the recent thread, so I guess I’ve been blocked by someone.

Carry on team!  Happy August!  Love my tribe.  xoxo Dolly

 

 

 

 

My Cover Was Blown…

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I’ve been quiet.  That’s not a bad thing really. It’s summertime, my time. I’m a Leo, fire sign, love the sun, love the summer, love the heat. This is my favorite time of year. In spite of the fact that my husband’s affair took place in the summer, this is my time and I will not allow him to ruin that for me.  But, in other news, my cover was blown.  My son found my blog.

A month ago my son admitted to me that he found my blog. The kid is too fucking smart. He was a bit upset about it as he read some of the older posts where I was really pissed at my husband. He confessed he was afraid I was still going to divorce his father despite the fact he read over two years back!  I explained to him about the therapeutic value of writing things out and told him that when I looked back at some of the older posts, I didn’t even recognize that I wrote them.  I also told him that had I not had an outlet to vent, it was quite possible that I would have divorced my husband.

I told him that I was upset with him for snooping. I even considered making the blog private.  I told him so.  He actually hugged me and apologized, saying ‘you don’t have to do that.’

I said to him, ‘Can’t you see how well things have been going?’  He replied, ‘You said things were OK when they weren’t.”  I told him, ‘Actions speak louder than words. You have seen us together, do you think we’re faking?’  His demeanor became relaxed as he absorbed my words and thought about our actions.  We’ve been good. And my son could see that.  He said he wouldn’t look at my blog anymore.

We shall see…

 

 

 

 

 

Ornery…

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I received a DM yesterday asking me if everything was alright because I had been quiet.  Unlike many of my Twitter ‘tribe’, my husband’s affair didn’t taint any major dates for me.  However, this time of the year, April-June, gets my dander up as that is the time frame when their ‘friendship’ kicked up and then took the physical turn in June. No one date is a trigger, I just find myself in an ornery frame of mind for these few months.

While I go on Twitter briefly, liking and even commenting on some posts, seeing the lingering hurt and also the positive and ‘philosophical’ posts, bring out a bit of my angry and sarcastic side.  This makes it prime time for me to poke the bear. As a matter of fact, I look at my memories from Facebook and see the pattern of the last two years where I posted some pretty nasty (but hilarious) digs at that skank.

For the past couple of years at this time, I threw myself into home projects and yard work. It keeps my mind from ruminating about the affair.  As such, my city yard has become quite the ‘staycation’ destination.  Financially, we have not been able to keep renting the beach house for the past few years.  But even so, living in the city hasn’t been all that bad, especially as the boys are older and have been busy with other interests.

In order to cope with my pissy mood, I have a number of projects I’ve either completed or been working on.  For example, last year I built a raised bed vegetable garden as well as a bar on our deck.  I built a paver patio with a fire pit and spray painted a set of chairs that had been severely neglected for years.

I also cook a lot and had recently been sending over food to my mother-in-law at my husband’s request. Though we don’t talk, she is elderly with major health and depression issues and the kids appreciate me sending over some weekly meals.  My kids also eat like horses, so I actually spend a ton of time cooking daily.

With the end of the school year approaching, we have attended two awards ceremonies in which my son received two pretty prestigious awards.

This year, I took a neglected bed of flowers with a crappy edging and built a stone raised bed.  I put in another vegetable garden there and as a matter of fact, it’s doings amazingly well.  I made some improvements to the bar and I just finished planted my gardens but for a couple of packets of seeds that I planned to put in this weekend. Small fish pond was cleaned out and I added some fish to it.

It is a beautiful Sunday. I planned on putting in the last of the garden and planting the front two window boxes.  I have a small piece of decorative fence to finish up.

I had not planned on writing today…BUT…

Last night, my husband took me out for ice cream.  As I walked back to the car, I twisted my foot.  I did ice it last night but when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t walk on it at all.  Hopefully it was because it was stiff as it isn’t really too swollen or black and blue.  So I am sitting on the deck, forced relaxation, ice on the foot, writing this post.

So while overall things are going relatively well with my husband outside of my pissyness, my projects are temporarily on hold. A friend is dropping of a pair of crutches and a boot so there is wine in my future.

Ornery, foot up, ice packs… But there’s always wine!

 

 

Checking In…

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I haven’t written in a while.  So, in a nutshell, here’s what’s gone on in Dolly’s world for the past month…

We’ve just wrapped up April vacation here, which wasn’t quite a vacation for my two sons who spent a 33 1/2 hour week in Driver’s Ed classes.  They weren’t happy about it, although both have their learners’ permits…

Marc had an outburst at school shortly after I wrote about the skank’s reaching out on St. Patrick’s Day weekend.  He was suspended for three days until the special ed team could meet and put additional strategies/accommodations in place. We had several extra therapy and psychiatrist appointments and it was a stressful couple of weeks and included three additional school meetings.  Add taxiing both kids to chess, track practices, Driver’s Ed classes along with a spring cleanup in the yard, things got pretty hectic here.  It was therapeutic for me to let off some steam with the physical work and I love to be outside.

Therefore, I haven’t spent a lot of time on Twitter but for following the posts from our tribe, usually when I am waiting for someone in the car!  I read the blogs, sometimes respond to the tweets, getting angry, sad and happy for my tribe.

And for the past few weeks, as I read through everyone’s stories, progress and frustrations, I began pondering the stark differences from my own journey.  Many have gone through multiple D-Days. Some are dealing with sex addicts. Others have husbands who have had long term affairs. Most felt their marriages were good, they were supportive wives/husbands and the affairs came out of the blue.

Those stories aren’t mine.

My marriage was miserable. We should have just filed for divorce and had our finances been better, one of us probably would have. My husband and I were both culprits for the marital demise.  We neglected each others’ needs, lost the ability to effectively communicate and basically just existed in the same house together.  We argued constantly over every little thing. Neither one of us liked the other. I would drive the kids to school for years, come home and be frustrated because he was still there.  If he left for work and I came home, I’d be relieved he was gone.

When an old boyfriend came back in the picture, I seriously gave a thought to ‘reconnecting.’  To be clear, I wasn’t out looking for anything and ultimately, nothing happened. But given the right circumstances, it could have. Same with my husband. He didn’t go looking for an affair, the skank slithered in when her own husband filed for divorce and took advantage of our rocky situation. In his case, the opportunity did present itself and things did happen.  Would I have done the same?  I very well might have.

My husband has repeatedly stated he never went looking for someone else nor would he have ever cheated had we not been where we were. It was said matter of factly, not thrown at me as if it were my fault. And I know my husband well enough to know he is telling the truth.

We’ve both owned our responsibility for the marriage breakdown. We have discussed the affair many times and realize how things got so bad, resolving to each other we would never go down that path again. Two and a half years past D-Day, I can honestly say that I am happy.  I hadn’t been happy for a long time.  It feels good…

 

 

 

 

Solidarity…

 

Saturday night was a ‘date night’. My husband and I have been going to a local restaurant on Saturday nights for the past few months. We’ve become friends with one of the bartenders and enjoy sitting at the bar, chatting with D, chatting with each other and sometimes running into people we know.

We were able to get out early last night to secure our favorite seats at the end D’s side of the bar. By 8:30 we were pretty much finished with a couple of drinks and a light dinner.  Paul, the other bartender remarked that it was early for us. My husband didn’t think so.  I agreed with Paul and said we left just after 10:00 last week. My husband still disagreed. So I showed him the photo of the skank’s text which I took at 9:31pm.

He gave me that look. That, I can’t believe you did that look. “Did you post it?.” I pulled up the text I sent her and showed him.  Dead silence…for a minute. A little more chatting with D and we picked up the car from the valet.

When we got in the car he said, ‘It looks like I showed you.’   (duh)  “That was the point.”   He said she probably passed out and didn’t even see the text. (how pathetic). I said maybe she saw it quickly and thought it was him responding as our cell phone numbers are the same except for the last digit.  I told him I know he wants to ignore her, but I am sick and tired of her shit. Enough is enough. And perhaps being ignored by him isn’t enough, maybe she needs to hear it from me. He considered my point of view but contended that she still may reach out again in a drunk text.

I had a hair appointment earlier in the week. Both my close friend Linda and our hairdresser immediately stated what I had been thinking, ‘Now she knows he’s showing you the texts and that you are closer than she thought.”  They both felt it may deter her.

She believes (and even said as much once) that I “won’t let him talk to (her)”.  She figures by reaching out after some time that he will return to their ‘friendship’ even though all of us involved know her true motives.  He would never show me his phone because he would never ‘betray’ her friendship. Most importantly, she frequently stated to him “She will never get over this,” following up with her invitations for him to stay with her.

However, with my response, there was now no speculating of whether or not he got the message, ignored the message, or was ‘not allowed’ to respond to the message. He wasn’t hiding the contact from me, waiting until the coast was clear or enough time had passed to resume their friendship. I wasn’t posting vague posts days after a former contact had been made, with her speculating I found it only by spying on the phone bill and not by my husband’s admission.  I swiftly and definitively texted her back, with a photo of the text and a short but sweet, ‘get a life skank. friendship’s over.’

We still disagree regarding her reaching out.  We’ve discussed blocking her to the point I demonstrated what would happen by blocking my number. He seriously considered it until phone calls went directly to voice mail and he said she’d know she was blocked.  He told me not to contact her directly but after I showed him, he saw my logic behind my immediate response to her text. Perhaps our ‘teamwork’ will be the final push she needs to stop…

 

 

 

 

What to Do…

I started writing a post yesterday afternoon.  I was a little irritated with my husband as well as the skank. I had read the comments on Poking The Bear  including one that suggested I ask him to call her with me there and shut her down.  However, a comment from one of my Twitter family agreed with his perspective that ignoring is best. My husband believes she will never go away. He says it’s her personality and that she will continue to reach out to try and get him back.

He’s right. Trust me, I know you want to reach out in justification and righteousness…..but that just brings the drama back. Ignore it, it will eventually go away. You’re pulling the drama back by engaging. I was stuck in that cycle too for awhile.

‘Healing Soul’s’ comment gave me a bit of flexibility in my anger towards him for refusal of action.  I still do not agree with this.  It’s been 2 1/2 years since she’s received her walking papers.

So now I’ve been thinking about how to handle things. I can get to his phone at some point and block her number. But I don’t think I want to do that.  I want her to send another text. I will not instigate, but I will respond. I actually dreamt about it last night and have penned out a draft below.

D said you weren’t the brightest bulb, but I didn’t think you were this stupid. How long does he have to ignore you before you get the hint. It’s over. What happened happened. He told you not to call, not to text, not to come by. And for God’s sake, don’t have your mother stop by. Do you know how desperate and pathetic that looks?  Tell me, how is mommy dearest? Are she and C still swinging? D used to tell me about how she would talk about their adventures at the office.  I can see where you came from. It appears the skank doesn’t fall far from the tree.

When we went to your wedding, I got a kick at what a cunt you were to me. My husband and I felt bad for your husband to be as we both knew you offered to call off the wedding if my husband would go out with you. But he wanted me and told you to marry Stephen.  Poor Steve, he didn’t know you were settling to him, a meal ticket, because the one you ‘loved’ D, loved me.  And D brought me to your wedding. We were secretly laughing about it the whole time and got a great picture of us kissing.  Poor Stephen, he filed for divorce when you had been telling everyone, including my husband what a horrible husband he was; cheap, a lousy father and he only had a little dick.  Maybe his dick wasn’t that little, maybe it just felt that way because you let yourself turn into a fat slob.

It was so thoughtful of you to send that lovely music mix, ‘it’s a great year for music’.  When we played it and got to Swalla, my husband said, ‘why did she send that? She doesn’t swallow.’

The friendship is over Kimba. Reconciliation 101 states 2 main conditions regarding the AP (that’s you, affair partner) – No contact and full disclosure to the spouse. Every text, every call, every visit to the office. He tells me. I revel in your desperation. I enjoy how pathetic you are. You told my husband I’d never get over it, but you’re the one who hasn’t and that knowledge is so satisfying.  Seeing you wallow in your misery gives me immense pleasure. Seeing your inability to move on warms my heart.

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No more legal advice for you skank, hire C. F. for you personal injury needs. Call your white trash enabling friend Anna to set you up with an attorney from her office when your contractor is screwing you out of money. My husband is no longer on your retainer.

It’s been nice reminiscing, but as my husband is done with you, so am I – and the kids are as well. They know who you are and WHAT you are – herpes whore. You sent my husband a text saying ‘you said your wife was psycho, is this one of her moments?’ Fact is, my son saw your ‘like’ on my H’s FB page and said, ‘WTF is SHE doing here.’  No one in this family, including my husband wants anything to do with you.

Move the fuck on. Get a life you pathetic skank and stay out of our lives. No contact. No calls, no texts, no visits. Otherwise you will continue to give me the amusement of watching you suffer.  Karma baby. God is letting me watch…

 

I thought about the few words I texted Saturday night and perhaps it will scare her off for a bit. Hopefully she hasn’t blocked my number and I will have the opportunity to send this text.

Poking The Bear…

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The skank texted my husband. First time since July 5, 2018.  In all honesty, I shouldn’t be surprised because I had actually been poking the bear.  I posted a few things on both Instagram and Facebook to see if she was still stalking my pages.  In a way I hoped for a reaction to my stirring of the pot. I wasn’t quite expecting my own reaction.

We were having a nice Saturday night out. Our friend was bartending and I was engage in a lively conversation with another couple at the bar while my husband was watching the last period of the Bruins game.  He went to use the men’s room when the text came in.  I immediately took a photo of the text as he was walking back and handed him the phone.

“Well, isn’t this interesting”, he commented uncomfortably.

No asshole, it’s not interesting.

I was pissed.  I didn’t want to make a scene so I kept my emotions sort of under control. Once we got in the car, I told him I should respond which is when he just about forbid me to do anything.  I told him he did what he did and he couldn’t tell me how to react or what to do or not do.  And he said something that he shouldn’t…”If you hadn’t done what you did, I never would have gone there.”

While he has taken responsibility for the most part for his actions, he can’t bear to admit his fault in totality for the affair.  When push comes to shove, he still blames me. And while I have admitted my share of the fault in the demise of the marriage, I fucking HATE the excuse that ‘if I didn’t do what I did, he never would have gone there.’  I felt the same way about our shitty marriage but I didn’t cheat.

That comment was all I needed.  After our heated conversation and his ‘suggestion’ I put a smile on my face for the kids, we walked into the house.  The boys wanted more food and we joked with them about our ‘date night’.  My son said, ‘how many drinks did you have?’. I said one drink and one wine. He laughed and said that was two drinks.  As I made them a huge wedge salad with left-over fresh baked bread from last night, I texted the skank back from my phone.

Will she text him back?  So far she hasn’t. She hasn’t responded to me either, although she is too chicken shit to do so.

And what the fuck is that grimacing face all about?  Fucking cunt.

It’s 12:3O am as I am writing this post.  I am so livid that I can’t get to sleep.  I just took a Xanax so hopefully it will kick in soon .  I poked the bear, so I do have to take some responsibility.

On another note, I got served today because of credit card debt. I have 20 days to respond and will have to file for bankruptcy. I had a pretty decent eBay business but when my mother in law became sick and my husband basically didn’t work to take care of her, I had to pay all the bills and let the credit card balance pile up.  I never recovered from that, nearly seven years ago although they made their money and then some from the interest I paid.

I had always said that I would never tolerate cheating.  If you cheat, you’re gone.  Yet when faced with that scenario, I stayed.  There were a lot of considerations taken in this decision.  I did realize I loved him. But maybe love isn’t always enough.  There were the kids and finances.  It’s almost 3 years later.  My older son is going to be a senior in high school.  I will have to file for bankruptcy, but then will be debt-free.  Maybe this stain of infidelity won’t wash away.  Maybe it can with the right attitudes and effort.  My husband makes a good effort, but his attitude sucks when the shit hits the fan. Don’t make excuses.  I accepted my responsibility for marital problems.  Accept yours.  Do NOT blame me for your affair with that skank.

We’ll see what the morning brings.  I have a few projects for this spring and once the bankruptcy is done I may have to re-evaluate the whole situation.  Maybe a fresh start is something to consider.