T'was a slight hiccup and an ex...

After having to live in the same house with my ex for three years after our split, we managed to sell the house, which by the way, was on the market for the same period.

The joy of finally selling the house was soon too replaced by utter chaos. I was dealing with a buyer which had taken upon himself to become the “expert” in everything and at the same time, tried his hand at every given moment to change or amend the sale...totally disregarding the contractual obligations.  In the end, it took a very polite attorney letter for him to realise that I am neither a pushover nor an idiot. The ex’s contribution to all this? Absolutely nothing.

Then came the packing up and selling of the content within the house. It was not exactly the smallest house on the block, and it took me two exhausting months to clear out a five bedroom house. The ex’s contribution? Nothing again.

A couple of other details had to be seen to as well. The roof had a leak that needed to be fixed, the garden had to be sorted out, an electrical compliance certificate had to be obtained...and again, the ex did not surprise me. No contribution whatsoever.

However, at the height of everything I was told that there is no understanding why I am so stressed or worked up about everything. Have you ever had those moments that you could actually see your hands around someone else’s neck? My language use I have to admit paled in comparison to what Uncle Nick had to say, and although my mother tends to stay away from the more descriptive type of words, she was in full agreement with him.

HH though had the “pleasure” of dealing with a very unsettled and grumpy Raven Red. I am thoroughly convinced that my rather striped and very tender bottom at times, was the most important factor that prevented the very untimely demise of the ex.

Fortunately it is all over and done with now...I have moved out, and for the first time in nearly two months, I have time for myself again. However, there is the flip side of the coin...I no longer have valid excuses NOT to visit HH more frequently, of which I have been casually informed that I am in need of (see the rolling of eyes)... Oh, and the ex? Rhett Butler said it perfectly; “Frankly, my dear, I do not give a damn”