Life gets so messy sometimes that it takes months to clean up. I recently wrapped up divorce numero dos (don't be jealous if you haven't even arrived at #1 yet...it will come..trust me). We were out of love for years, separated for another year and in a divorce free fall for months. It wasn't ugly, just one of those "hey, do you smell what I smell?" type deals. Even if it was an epic shit storm, I wouldn't tell you anyway. For sure not here. He has my dogs, and next time I visit, I don't want to be in the position of noticing they are missing after I have eaten the oh so meaty chili. Mr. Ex was nice enough to let me stash my stockpile of useless crap in his spare room for a very long time. I finally went back to Austin a couple of weekends ago to pick up what I thought was a few boxes. Upon entering the room and being greeted by floor to ceiling boxes (not counting what was stashed in the closet) it became clear I was one box of shit shy of being a Hoarder's episode.
After sorting through the mountains of crap I had forgotten I abandoned stored there, I packed my SUV within an inch of it's life. Consequently, this made driving home a bit tricky since I couldn't see out of the windows. I was certain at every curve that this would be the one that I roll my truck on. I had anxiety over my dead body being found splayed out next to my boxes of pictures, craft crap and files. If any one found me, they would quickly surmise I was a lonely old weirdo with hundreds of files of boring and would likely start a search for the twenty cats I should have with me. Unless they found the one bag of excitement I had in my possession. A bag packed with pastel yellow rubber whips and bright pink and yellow straws. With penis heads to suck on. Now before you get any measure of judgemental, they were for a friends divorce party. Since my plan for all of this crap was to sell it in a garage sale in New City and make a few bucks for new hooker heels and new Fall make up; I didn't think it was appropriate to sell nasty dirty but oh so fun penis straws at a garage sale in front of my house. I dumped them in a men's restroom at a truck stop instead of risking their accidental appearance at my sale right as the very Christian home schooled kids across the street were looking for craft projects. Somewhere in Texas is a trucker really pissed at me because the guy that used the bathroom after him thinks said trucker is a weirdo that likes sipping his beer through a wiener head. I bet that asshat never tail gates a truck that looks like mine again.
During the garage sale, a youngish cute pregnant couple buys stuff. A lot of stuff. They proceed to tell is that they are stocking their new home on the cheap. Aaaw how sweet! Youngish middle aged love about to pop their spawn out of fun city and they are padding their nest. Awesome, at this moment, I'm happy they hauled my useless crap very valuable heirlooms and rare antique furnishings away. Fast forward to Saturday. The Man and I are in dire need of a coffee table because we just sold the leather ottoman that the cat likes to dry hump like a lusty teenager in the garage sale. We decide a funky lime green table is our goal, and knowing there is no way in hell we will find that at a furniture store, we head to the thrift shop to make our own shabby cheap table. Holy hell, the first table we come to is perfectly funky awesome and will look epic after we spray paint and add new handles to it! While The Man goes to make a deal, I look over to the next booth. WTF! There is my lamp, glass pitcher and other crap I just sold to that lying bastard couple! I've been screwed and the only wet spot to prove it is the rabid pissed foam frothing from my fangs. Seriously? WTFery is this? I gave them awesome deals because I was having a moment of compassion (see Kittens, that never pays). The guy recognizes that I recognize him. So does his fat ugly pregnant hooker. She bolts. He breaks eye contact. I tell the back of his head, "Hey congratulations for completing that junks circle of life! I bought that crap for less than you paid me for it at this very thrift store to sell at my garage sale". That was a tiny white lie of course, but sometimes that's just the spot light needed to make some one's asshattery shine to it's full potential.