J-Fed Marks His Territory

Three weeks.

That's all it took. It's been three weeks since T.O.W.'s (the other woman's) ex-husband moved all his stuff out, and already that prick bastard known as my ex-husband has marked his territory. Like the dog that he is, the sign that the mayor of Basketcaseville had returned to the neighborhood was big, bold and right there in my face first thing this morning. Talk about a wake-up call.

It was a clear, crisp morning and I was feeling all sorts of Polyianna as I loaded the kids up for school. I had just pulled out of the driveway when white, red and black like my soul flashed in front of my eyes. Just two houses down was J-Fed's truck and trailer parked in T.O.W.'s driveway.

I put my foot on the gas and moved full speed ahead with every intention of driving head on into his shitty vehicle. But then I remembered that I had the kids in the car and I stopped short before any damage was done. Why wreck my car when I could simply walk our 90-pound boxer by his truck and let him piss all over J-Fed's truck?

I braced myself for daughter's reaction.

I waited for her to ask me why her father's truck was parked in T.O.W.'s driveway. I thought of how confused she would be. Then I thought of what every other neighbor would think as they left their houses this morning. Oh, I'm sure everything they've thought the last couple of years had been confirmed. I know that's what I was thinking.

I hadn't given J-Fed much thought lately. I rarely talked to him and when he did stop by the house, I was usually on the phone and didn't give him so much as a hello. I was fine with everything until I saw his truck. With PMS rearing its ugly head, I was feeling like a nasty bitch and this was just the catalyst I needed to set me off.