Tuesday, December 26, 2006

State of Affairs

I want to retell this story for posterity, as I glossed over it earlier. And if this is ever made into a book or movie, you can know you read it here first.

Christmas Eve, I awoke early. I hadn't slept much the night before, owing to the sister phone call and other such shit. I really didn't drink that much the night before, as I was already in an alternate reality. Everything was illuminated. Great book, by the way. However, when the sister called, I poured a glass of wine and we had our moment.

I slept into about 9, took the dog for an hour walk and came home. Had another conversation with J in which a few random details were shared. I shared more than I should have, but oh well. Someone needed to know he sucked as a lover. Might as well be the chick I thought had to deal with that. I found myself pouring a martini as we spoke. It was only noon.

By the time we got off the phone, I was a little buzzed. This was 2pm. I took a shower and decided I didn't want any alcohol in my body anymore. I had probably had enough wine over the weekend to supply a small bistro. I was just done.

It was pouring, but I knew I shouldn't drive because of the liquid lunch. I walked the dog into the day care (about fifteen minute walk) and walked the other fifteen to Nordy's. There, I bought myself a kickass Marc Jacobs purse, on B's dime. I sort of regret that now -- not buying it, but on his dime. I have been the classy one in all this. On the other hand, I handled the bills for all of our marriage. He is technically incompetent and probably won't figure it out -- and all of his mail comes here, as the son of a bitch hasn't even changed his address in the past two years. If he ever does figure it out, I have already taken the money out and put it into an envelope. The safe bet is he never figures it out. And I have a little "fuck you."

But the real story is my freak out en route to my folks. I staved the drive off as much as possible, as it was miserable out and I had had alcohol for lunch. I finally left around 8pm and it was a downpour. And I really, really hate driving in the rain at night -- my eyes are just shit and I kept imagining I was going to hit a patch of water and spin out. And my car and me and my dog would be totaled and dead. And B would get my things -- the condo, my savings, the art, my personal stuff.

I full on wigged. I was already holding my breath in the dark spots and already very light-headed. My mind was racing and going faster than the car. All I could think about was him stepping back into our life without consequence. And here's the really bizarre thing -- I was re-obsessing about a bar exam question I missed. On the bar exam, there was a question related to wills and witness signatures. I got it wrong -- I realized that minutes after the bar exam - and I spent two months completely convinced that I wouldn't pass the bar for those 2 points I missed.

Wiggage is weird -- I ended up pulling over at an exit with the only lit gas station I saw. I dug out that legal pad and wrote out a will -- in remarkably detailed fashioned and referencing cases and statutes that no one should know off the top of their head. Thing is, the rule requires that two people witness the testator's (person making the will) signature.

Yes, I went into the gas station, where exactly two people were present. I begged them to sign (that they had witnessed me signing a will) and required their names, ages and addresses. This is more than a little weird to do to anyone, let alone on Christmas Eve, let alone to strangers in a convenience store. Suffice to say, I persuaded them both to sign (carding the self-professed 18 year old who was, in fact, 18) and the convenience store clerk (who reminded me that the whole exchange was being recorded). I bought them both a half rack for their efforts (a misdemeanor caught on tape where the 18 year old was concerned), bought a box of envelopes and a stamp, mailed the will to myself, and then made my way to my parents. I was still white knuckling it, but with about 40% less hyperventilation.

Welcome to my world. This is the face of progress. It just takes a few steps back now and then.

There is more, but I need to walk the dog.

4 comments:

Liz said...

Wiggage aside, that is a great story.

IGTF said...

Make another one and I'll sign that motherfucker.

Norm said...

I bet I can get you Nora Ephron's address; she'd have this story in a movie faster than you can cast Meg Ryan these days ... ok, stop, I was kidding, your death glare is melting my monitor ...

Connoisseur of Human Folly said...

Good call, man. This does totally sound like a Nora Ephron story line.

What? Bitch has been known to write a good yarn on occasion.