Permanent Brain Damage

He's got it... he really does. I'm talking about dain bramage, brain damage or some short circuit up there in his noggin.

As J-Fed and I have gotten in a bit of a divorce routine, things have started to settle down. We still have our fights... big ones at that. However, there are times where we're actually civil to each other, and it's usually when we need things from each other. Recently, it's been a two-way street. He scratches my back, and I try not to stab him in his.

Case in point, I needed my Christmas tree and decorations from the storage shelves at his office. I figured he'd drag his ass until December 24 and give them to me then, just in time to remind Santa that people do in fact still live in our house. J-Fed can be calculating like that, and leave it to him to try and keep Santa away from sharing any seasons greetings.

Unfortunately, having him bring me the decorations wasn’t going to cut it. Somehow they needed to get up on the house, and I knew just the 6’4” do-do who could do do it for me. Sadly, it meant I was going to have to be nice. The first time I mentioned it in passing, pointing out that just as Sally Struthers needed food for the starving children in Africa, Kiki needed a man to help her hang her Christmas lights.

Before I asked him, I thought back to an exchange just last week, where I practically pleaded with him to address my plumbing issues – i.e. plunge my toilet. He furrowed his brow and stared at me for a moment before taking the opportunity to enlighten me.

“You, really need a boyfriend,” he said matter-of-factly. It wasn’t that he necessarily wanted – or cared – if I moved on. What it boiled down to was the fact that J-Fed preferred that I find a man so that he’d no longer have to assist me with any menial tasks.