Today I am thankful for Amazon.
So..
I have to clean up my basement. My ex-husband squatted in the basement for three years after our divorce.
The first year and a half, he had a traveling auditor's job. He was rarely here. He promised to move out once I got a good paying job.
When he was out of town, his relatives would do creepy crap around the house and scare the heck out of me.
It seemed to get worse when I advertised my hypnosis business or had job interviews.
One day, I met someone that I knew from a concert. He was recruiting for a health insurance company.
I couldn't place where I met him. We'll meddle with a letter in his name and call him Tim.
One August day, a guy I'd known for years and thought we were dating, took me to a concert. We had tickets on a makeshift dance floor. He sold my tickets after we arrived and the only other tickets available were in the stands. My alleged boyfriend spent the concert on the field (with someone else) as I was in the stands by myself.
I left in tears.
Tim and his friend saw me in tears, waved at me and tried to console me.
I just wanted to go home.
The concert was a mess. I would later learn my "boyfriend" was seeing a young friend of mine who he wound up hurting pretty badly (at least based on her apologetic phone conversations). For years, she'd call me up and apologize for what she terms as "ruining [my] life." I couldn't figure out why until she said the name of the guy who hurt her.
Wow....
I did a lot of work trying to convince her to finish college. This guy talked her out of it.
He's as ass.
Tim is not as ass.
I met Tim at this concert. I must have made an impression.
Tim's recommendation got me a very good paying gig selling insurance.
When I got that good paying job I needed, my ex "lost" his job and refused to move out. It took me 18 months to get a court order removing him from my home.
He lived in the basement.
He trashed it.
There is mold. He ruined the furniture. There is trash and junk all over the place. I put out two or three bags of trash each week. My kids are helping me pack his boxes.
******************************
I have a girl who uses the basement as a crash pad when her dad beats the holy shit out of her.
She's eighteen. She refuses to call the cops.
I let her stay here.
I don't like her sleeping on the bed my ex broke. She doesn't seem to mind it, but I do.
Part of my problem was fretting about buying new furniture.
I gave my mini-van to my ex (because he doesn't take care of his cars). Getting furniture home is a pain.
I can't lift more than ten pounds (long story...I need surgery). Yes, the guitars I like weigh more than ten pounds. I think the doctor fudged the numbers a bit. Forty pounds might be my limit.
I hate movers. They never show up time.
***********************
I went shopping for a daybed or a futon for this young lady.
I found one I liked but wanted to check the reviews.
I went to Amazon.
It had horrible reviews.
Then I discovered, Amazon ships daybeds and futons!!!
I can open the box and take the pieces bit by bit into the basement and assemble it there.
Problem solved!
Getting it put together will be a piece of cake.
I'm also looking at getting a dresser and a desk for her, too.
Amazon ships those.
***********************
There are times when being single is so much easier than fighting with a spouse about when to pick up a daybed, a dresser or a desk.
Or whether or not you can buy one....
Or take in a young woman with bruises...
It's nice. All I had to do is turn on the computer, press a couple of buttons and viola, problem solved!
No wonder people like being single!
Maybe I won't be in a hurry to find a cuddle buddy.
May you find solutions to all your problems, too.
Love ya,
S.
So..
I have to clean up my basement. My ex-husband squatted in the basement for three years after our divorce.
The first year and a half, he had a traveling auditor's job. He was rarely here. He promised to move out once I got a good paying job.
When he was out of town, his relatives would do creepy crap around the house and scare the heck out of me.
It seemed to get worse when I advertised my hypnosis business or had job interviews.
One day, I met someone that I knew from a concert. He was recruiting for a health insurance company.
I couldn't place where I met him. We'll meddle with a letter in his name and call him Tim.
One August day, a guy I'd known for years and thought we were dating, took me to a concert. We had tickets on a makeshift dance floor. He sold my tickets after we arrived and the only other tickets available were in the stands. My alleged boyfriend spent the concert on the field (with someone else) as I was in the stands by myself.
I left in tears.
Tim and his friend saw me in tears, waved at me and tried to console me.
I just wanted to go home.
The concert was a mess. I would later learn my "boyfriend" was seeing a young friend of mine who he wound up hurting pretty badly (at least based on her apologetic phone conversations). For years, she'd call me up and apologize for what she terms as "ruining [my] life." I couldn't figure out why until she said the name of the guy who hurt her.
Wow....
I did a lot of work trying to convince her to finish college. This guy talked her out of it.
He's as ass.
Tim is not as ass.
I met Tim at this concert. I must have made an impression.
Tim's recommendation got me a very good paying gig selling insurance.
When I got that good paying job I needed, my ex "lost" his job and refused to move out. It took me 18 months to get a court order removing him from my home.
He lived in the basement.
He trashed it.
There is mold. He ruined the furniture. There is trash and junk all over the place. I put out two or three bags of trash each week. My kids are helping me pack his boxes.
******************************
I have a girl who uses the basement as a crash pad when her dad beats the holy shit out of her.
She's eighteen. She refuses to call the cops.
I let her stay here.
I don't like her sleeping on the bed my ex broke. She doesn't seem to mind it, but I do.
Part of my problem was fretting about buying new furniture.
I gave my mini-van to my ex (because he doesn't take care of his cars). Getting furniture home is a pain.
I can't lift more than ten pounds (long story...I need surgery). Yes, the guitars I like weigh more than ten pounds. I think the doctor fudged the numbers a bit. Forty pounds might be my limit.
I hate movers. They never show up time.
***********************
I went shopping for a daybed or a futon for this young lady.
I found one I liked but wanted to check the reviews.
I went to Amazon.
It had horrible reviews.
Then I discovered, Amazon ships daybeds and futons!!!
I can open the box and take the pieces bit by bit into the basement and assemble it there.
Problem solved!
Getting it put together will be a piece of cake.
I'm also looking at getting a dresser and a desk for her, too.
Amazon ships those.
***********************
There are times when being single is so much easier than fighting with a spouse about when to pick up a daybed, a dresser or a desk.
Or whether or not you can buy one....
Or take in a young woman with bruises...
It's nice. All I had to do is turn on the computer, press a couple of buttons and viola, problem solved!
No wonder people like being single!
Maybe I won't be in a hurry to find a cuddle buddy.
May you find solutions to all your problems, too.
Love ya,
S.