Change of Address

I never thought things would happen this fast.

No, I'm not pregnant. Nor am I getting hitched. My old house has become a thing of the past. It's been less than a month since I moved most of the stuff out of my place and into Mr. Ex's. I'm assuming that most people would often think of the place where they lived for so long, at least in passing.

While living in that house, J-Fed and I tied the knot. Both of our children were born during the time we were there. The end of marriage? That happened there too. But once the divorce became final, it was a house, no longer a home.

But to be honest, once I made the decision to move out and move on, it was a done deal. I never looked back. In fact, weeks went by and I didn't even give the haunted house a second thought.

The good news is that I finally got someone else to move in, after just a few short weeks. The bad news is that it meant I really had to get ALL of my stuff out of there. And by stuff, I mean a shitload of things that I had collected over the years. J-Fed got lucky -- when he moved out, all he took was his wardrobe. I got the shaft, being left with everything else -- from wedding pictures to weed wackers.

Mr. Ex was well in tune to the fact that we were on a tight timeline. We had less than eight days to get EVERYTHING out. I'm sure it was hard -- more so tedious and tiresome -- enough getting his stuff out of his own house when he got divorced. Now, it had fallen upon him to help me with mine. I'm sure for him it was much like getting a tooth extracted... without the novicaine.

Every now and then, I'd come across something from my past and begin leafing through it, namely a great deal of my writings. In the nicest way possible, he'd give me a gentle nudge that while it was perfectly fine to reminisce, it might be more efficient to do it on my own time. Translation -- he'd prefer not to turn a few hours into a few days simply so I could take a long walk down memory lane. I had to laugh because he was completely right, especially when you take into account that three neighborhood kids and daughter were screaming like banshees in the mostly empty house, while the baby poured Kool-Aid on the floor.