Close Encounters of the Ex Kind

In the world according to Kiki, truth is much stranger than fiction.

It's kind of like being on an acid trip... without the acid. Let's take this weekend for example. Mr. Ex and I decided that this would be the weekend that we made the big move, and by "big" I mean a shitload of heavy furniture.

This wouldn't have been a problem for Mr. Ex and I, except for the fact that well, it was Mr. Ex and I. If we had a slew of other people, it would have been all good. I had mentioned the impending move to J-Fed last week to give him a heads up that I'd no longer be living in our old house.

He asked how I'd be getting everything out of the place, and I informed him that Mr. Ex and I were going to do it. J-Fed knew better than anyone else that I was not only weak, I was lazy when it came to lifting anything beyond the remote control.

He was probably laughing to himself at Mr. Ex's expense, picturing the look of shock on Mr. Ex's face when I informed him that I didn't move things. Truth be told, it wasn't that I didn't like to get my hands dirty. I had a herniated disc in my back and a torn ACL in my knee and together that spelled D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R when it came to hauling heavy things.

In reality, that's probably what stopped me from harming J-Fed all of those years. There's no way I would've singlehandedly been able to transport his lifeless corpse. So in reality, my aversion to lifting actually worked in the Fedster's favor. 

Anyhoo, something inspired J-Fed to pass the peace pipe to me. I dunno if he had some religious experience or maybe he was just setting me up, but he offered to pay one of his employees to help Mr. Ex and I move. It was a nice gesture, so nice, that it seemed too good to be true. Despite my better judgement, I took him up on it.