I know I should be above this. I know it. I shouldn’t blog about it. I should smile serenely and understand that these are just things. And that things don’t matter; people do.
But a full three years after EX left this house, and after three years of refusing dozens of requests by me to come and pick up his clothing, books, personal items, photographs, baseball hats, winter coats, suits, old pants he’ll never fit into again, hundreds of ties, boxes of personal papers. . .
He now wants to fight me over a bunch of crazy crap.
In reality, he doesn’t really want any it because he refuses to pick it up, despite dozens of email requests from me. Countless people have warned me that his stuff is a fire hazard stored in the utility closet in my little home. And it looks terrible to potential buyers looking at the house, which was just put on the market last week. These things make him so happy because he knows they upset me.
But here are some highlights of the things he pretends to want:
- the never-used KitchenAid mixer that was a wedding gift 19 years ago
- some long-lost Waterford glasses – another wedding gift never taken out of the original boxes
- five $8 champagne flutes
- all the wedding china
- all the wedding stemware
- artwork purchased by my parents
- outdoor furniture purchased by my parents
- the wine he left here three years ago, a few bottles, which he now claims was a dozen bottles – and has escalated in price to more than $3,000!
- baseball hats – dozens and dozens of them that he claims I threw away
- the smallest little broken table that I bought at a flea market eleven years ago as part of a set for $20.
But then again, he doesn’t really want any of this. I am a free storage space for him. And as I slip away more and more into blissful No-Contact Land, he gets to continue to engage me and try to fight me.
So I’ve told him he can have most of it, at least if it wasn’t purchased by my parents.
Oh, except the wine. That’s long gone.