Dissolution or Disillusion?

Well I'm homeless.  That's right.  I currently do not have a home.  My home has been sold.  I've moved out and now I'm living in a hotel room with an angry 11-year-old until I close escrow on my next home sometime in mid August.

Before we left, my daughter and I went through the house and said goodbye to it.
We walked into each room and thanked our lovely home for all the good times it gave us.
It was emotionally grueling, but necessary.  I didn't want to ignore everything this house has meant to us.

The move itself was horrific.  Watching all my stuff being crammed into storage boxes.  One of my neighbors came up to me and said something phenomenally heartless. 

"Look at this way, it's just 16 years." 

I should have told him to go F himself.  But I just stared at him.  I can't believe how stupid some people can be.

When we were all done and pulling away from the curb my daughter burst into tears and cried:
"I want to go home and I can't go home."


I was so glad she said it.  Now it won't haunt her.  And I know exactly what she's talking about.  I can't go home.  I want so badly to sit in my family room and watch my big screen with our cat on my lap.  To see the majestic mountain view turn pink in the sunset.  I want to cook spaghetti in my kitchen.  Watch the morning light pour onto the floor of my bathroom.  But I can't.  This is just another bunch of things I can't do.  Instead, I have to discover all the new, wonderful things I can do. Like go through another slight remodel on my new place including removing a popcorn ceiling that actually contains asbestos.  (Oh joy).

The particular irony of my divorce situation is that while I'm watching my family atrophy and my lovely 3 bedroom home that I just remodeled downsize to a somewhat  smaller two bedroom - my day job is about marketing to rich people and convincing them to move into an even more expensive mansion where they'll live happily-ever-after with their blissfully happy families.

Frankly, sometimes it makes me want to urp.  Because except for the money part, I thought I was one of those happy people.

I finally got a copy of my dissolution papers. And it occured to me that a more apt name is "disillusion" papers.  Cause isn't that what divorce is really all about?
Coming to grips with the idea that all is not what it seems?  That the person who you thought was good guy in reality is nothing more than a butt hump.