J-Fed's Wake Up Call

J-Fed may no longer consider me his wife but he still considers me his alarm clock. Every night before he goes to bed, he calls me. Not to say good night, I assure you, but to ask me to wake him up in the morning.

During the day, he’ll lounge around on his couch watching Cops marathons and before he dozes off, he calls me. Not to ask how my day is going or ask if I need any help with anything, but to request that I call to wake him up in 20 minutes so that he can go Frap Up. (Translation: running to the nearby gas station for Starbucks Frappucinos) Life as J-Fed is soooooooooo rough.

There’s a word for this – it’s called audacity. I’ve realized since J-Fed moved out that perhaps someone should write a manual on the rules of leaving your wife. Rule #1 – don’t ask for favors. You moved out. You moved on. Your wife, meanwhile, is left with the ruins and the remains of the marital mess.

I mean, this isn’t just a random thing. He literally calls me at least once a day.

“Kiki, call me in the morning and make sure I’m up,” he’ll say.

“Kiks, make sure you call me in 30 minutes. I’m going to take a nap and I need to be somewhere by 3 p.m.,” he’ll demand.

Now, I need to remind you that these orders aren’t being made from the bed we shared for eight years; they’re being made from his two bedroom apartment down the road, all decked out with brand new furniture, a snazzy 42” plasma television and a whole lotta room all to himself.

And the irony lies somewhere in the fact that when he left, he took the friggin alarm clock. Yes, he took it with him, but somehow the alarm clock just doesn’t cut it. He needs me as a daily wake-up call. J-Fed, riddle me this. Who wakes me up every morning to get the kids ready? Nobody, you numbskull. Do you know why? Because I’m an adult, and it’s my responsibility to get myself out of bed.

Just this afternoon I called to wake sleepy from his afternoon respite. Instead of being gracious, he pointed out that I was approximately three minutes late with my wake-up call.

“It’s a good thing you called. I was testing you, ya know,” he warned

Testing me for what J-Fed? Is there some exam for estranged wives that I don’t know about? Am I missing something here? Last time I checked my name was Kiki not Big Ben.

I used to think J-Fed was the stupidest person on earth for asking me to do this. But then it dawned on me that I am the stupidest person on earth because I ACTUALLY DO IT. I’m still taking care of him. But it’s all about to come to an end.

I’m sounding the independence alarm, J-Fed. It’s time to grow up. Your days of wake-up calls from this sucker are over.