OMG, it gives me the willies just typing the heading. But there you have it. Tonight at midnight I cross over the brink, although as my massage therapist says (He happens to cross the brink on Saturday, one day after me) sixty is the new forty. Right. Notice only sixty-year-olds say that.
So I sort of got sidetracked yesterday, which would have been Sharon day. The big move NORTH to the teeny little hamlet of Sharon. What were the chances of finding a third great neighbourhood after having lived in two of the very best? Well…as it turned out…pretty damned good. Being the first ones to actually move onto the street we got to meet everyone as they moved in, sort of the local welcome wagon, with shades of June Cleaver thrown in. We bonded closely with two couples in particular, shared a lot of laughs, a lot of barbques, a lot of parties. One evening in particular we sat out the back, on a warm summer evening, and watched a spiffy new travelling sprinkler crawl around the yard for three hours, having a blast doing it.
One of those couples, Mork and Mindy, have since moved out West…really West, to Calgary. The other couple moved North…really North, to Georgian Bay, and, as luck would have it, a year after they both moved away, my dear hubby was ejected from the house after 37 years of marriage. In hindsight, it was a great ejection, with clothes flying over the railing amidst clouds of blue-tinged language. From the time I confronted him with emails wherein it was revealed he had been enjoying a five year affair with an ex neighbour from Noake….it took approximately a half hour to hurl all of his clothing out onto the front porch, snatch his keys and credit cards, and slam the door on that installment of my life. Thirteen months later, I had my final divorce papers clutched in hand, stamped sealed and registered. Of course he said he was sorry, but as the song says, he wasn’t really sorry…he was just sorry he got caught. Of course he wanted to come back and did some nice begging, and maybe…maybe…had it been a weekend fling with a stranger, or even a couple of weeks with someone from his office…I could have accepted the grovelling and the promises and given him a second chance. Maybe. But five years? And with a best friend that I trusted like a sister? Faugh. Gone. Out. From that day forth he has been referred to as Stupid F**k…or just Stupid for short, because man, was he stupid. I really don’t understand men (or women for that matter) who decide they aren’t happy in a marriage and instead of just sitting down with their spouse and talking about it, they unzip their pants and hump in the back seat of a car somewhere. Fun. Wow. If you’re not happy, humping someone else isn’t going to make you any happier, or, when you get caught, make it any easier when a whole world of hurt comes crashing down around your ears.
Frankly, all through the Eden Pit years and the North Noake years and the Sharon years…I never pictured for a single, solitary moment that I would be living alone with two dogs and six birds on the eve of my 60th birthday. Thank goodness my son is only 8 min down the road, because he and the DIL show up at the drop of a pin if I need them, as do my adopted SIL and DIL. The grandkids are here all the time, filling the house with their own particular brand of chaos, so that’s good too. There are still the quiet times, when I can’t sleep and I can only think and wonder and question myself, question what went wrong, and why I didn’t see it…me, who is usually so quick to spot trouble with other couples. But to his credit, he fooled everyone. Not a single one of our friends suspected a thing and they were all as shocked as me. Some, to this rainy day 18 months after the apocalypse, feel so betrayed they can’t even talk about it. One friend almost slapped him across the face at a funeral. The irony in all of this is that he’s alone too. His little piece of skank dropped him like a hot potato, and moved on to another fool with unzipped trousers. He’s renting a room off the only person who would take him in…someone who didn’t know me at all, and that’s probably a good thing. I kept a day to day journal of all the events as they unfolded, mostly for the benefit of my lawyer, and I’m tempted to write a how to book: How to Lose 190lbs Overnight. It’s one diet plan that definitely works and shows results right away *snort*