Almost Done
Two weeks since my last post, a lot of beers returned to Lake Ontario, too little food eaten, one puking session in the shower, a few unpleasant late-night phone calls, some more or less civil, one strangely beguiling and one really ugly msm session, have all flowed under the bridge.
Ten days after Laura moved out, on Friday the 21st, she had still not packed, let alone taken, her things to her place. She had dropped in a few times while I was at work, possibly picked up some odds and ends but (I suspect) mostly played on *my* computer. The last time, she also drank what remained of my liquor, dirtied more dishes, and left cigarette butts in random places around the apartment.
Before leaving for my companies business-planning retreat (which may be a friends-only post all on its own one of these days) on the Friday following that, I stopped by my superintendent's apartment and asked to have my lock changed.
I didn't tell Laura; I did tell her I didn't want her coming over when I was around any more. "I'll respect that," she said.
A few days into the next week, she msn'ed me to say, "You changed the lock!" and I felt entirely justified in my decision that I could not trust her word. I also cut off the service on the cell-phone I had bought her only a week or two before I learned our relationship had become a lie.
Anyway, she kept making dates to come and get her things (which I had packed), then cancelling them. Last Thursday, she had made another appointment. And did not call to break it until I had already found her on msn and asked her what was going on. "I can't do it tonight," she wrote, "but I promise I'll be by tomorrow."
I was at sck5000's apartment, a few blocks up Queen from my on, having gone there to borrow some cash to tide me over 'till payday. We were having beers on his deck while I periodically checked my phone for Laura's call saying when she would come by.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I returned to the deck and told him Laura had cancelled again.
We had another beer and I bitched. And slowly, I grew increasingly aware of how much I resented the disrespect (or maybe it was a way to keep a connection with me? Who knows) the mount of boxes and bags sitting and waiting for their owner in my apartment represented to me.
"Fuck it," I said later on. "Let's do."
"Are you sure you want to do this," SCK said, for neither the first, nor the last, time that evening. This despite the fact he believed it was the right thing to do; I wanted to be sure I thought it was the right thing to do as well.
I was sure.
We walked over to my apartment and I called a cab, a minivan. We hauled the crates, boxes and bags to the vestibule, then loaded up the vehicle and started off for the wilds of Forest Hill. After a couple of mis-steps, we found the house and I got out to ring the bell.
No answer.
I rang it again.
Still no answer. Meanwhile, SCK and our driver were emptying the vehicle, piling the porch with Laura's things.
I knocked on the door. I pounded the door.
No answer.
We discussed our options. Take everything back?
"Fuck it, we leave it here. Everything but the cat. I guess Spyder is coming home with me."
And so we did.
Getting her things (I forgot a bag and a basket, and I know I'll be stumbling over odds-and-ends for a while as I get the place in order) out of my place cost me $70.00 but was well worth the money.
When SCK left, I went online and found Laura on MSN. "thanks for dropping the stuff off", she said, though the chat quickly descended into mutual ugliness.
Anyway, she still has my phone and I still have her cat. I hope to see the former again (though I half expect her to keep it - non-functioning as it is - out of misplaced spite) and am unsure whether or not I want her to come for her cat; I like Spyder, and I like knowing Chet has some companionship when I am not around.
All in all, I suppose as break-ups go, this one has been relatively non-ugly.
And, to my amazement, I am starting to feel (almost) good.
Perhaps because there was betrayals involved, the intense love I felt for Laura seems to have blown out of my heart as if the latter was a pricked balloon. It's refilling now, with hope, with happy memories and (thank god) my basic confidence that most people are fundamentally decent and honest human beings (that last said, I'll be more careful in future when I have reason for suspicion).
Getting her things out was a huge weight of my mind and spirit. I intend this week, to get the apartment in order, type up the short story which still sits in long-hand, and even get out and meet some people (at least one of you knows who you are!).
That's it. With a little luck, my next post will be about something other than the state of my spirits.
Edit: Well, the cat is gone and she returned the cell-phone. I also handed over a garbage bag and basket of stuff I'd forgotten during the main move. For some reason, she just dropped-in, rather than calling or emailing me first, and since I was about to go out (and, okay, for spite) I didn't let her in. All that's left is to clean up and put aside all she's left on the floors and various nooks and crannies. Really almost done, I hope.
Ten days after Laura moved out, on Friday the 21st, she had still not packed, let alone taken, her things to her place. She had dropped in a few times while I was at work, possibly picked up some odds and ends but (I suspect) mostly played on *my* computer. The last time, she also drank what remained of my liquor, dirtied more dishes, and left cigarette butts in random places around the apartment.
Before leaving for my companies business-planning retreat (which may be a friends-only post all on its own one of these days) on the Friday following that, I stopped by my superintendent's apartment and asked to have my lock changed.
I didn't tell Laura; I did tell her I didn't want her coming over when I was around any more. "I'll respect that," she said.
A few days into the next week, she msn'ed me to say, "You changed the lock!" and I felt entirely justified in my decision that I could not trust her word. I also cut off the service on the cell-phone I had bought her only a week or two before I learned our relationship had become a lie.
Anyway, she kept making dates to come and get her things (which I had packed), then cancelling them. Last Thursday, she had made another appointment. And did not call to break it until I had already found her on msn and asked her what was going on. "I can't do it tonight," she wrote, "but I promise I'll be by tomorrow."
I was at sck5000's apartment, a few blocks up Queen from my on, having gone there to borrow some cash to tide me over 'till payday. We were having beers on his deck while I periodically checked my phone for Laura's call saying when she would come by.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I returned to the deck and told him Laura had cancelled again.
We had another beer and I bitched. And slowly, I grew increasingly aware of how much I resented the disrespect (or maybe it was a way to keep a connection with me? Who knows) the mount of boxes and bags sitting and waiting for their owner in my apartment represented to me.
"Fuck it," I said later on. "Let's do."
"Are you sure you want to do this," SCK said, for neither the first, nor the last, time that evening. This despite the fact he believed it was the right thing to do; I wanted to be sure I thought it was the right thing to do as well.
I was sure.
We walked over to my apartment and I called a cab, a minivan. We hauled the crates, boxes and bags to the vestibule, then loaded up the vehicle and started off for the wilds of Forest Hill. After a couple of mis-steps, we found the house and I got out to ring the bell.
No answer.
I rang it again.
Still no answer. Meanwhile, SCK and our driver were emptying the vehicle, piling the porch with Laura's things.
I knocked on the door. I pounded the door.
No answer.
We discussed our options. Take everything back?
"Fuck it, we leave it here. Everything but the cat. I guess Spyder is coming home with me."
And so we did.
Getting her things (I forgot a bag and a basket, and I know I'll be stumbling over odds-and-ends for a while as I get the place in order) out of my place cost me $70.00 but was well worth the money.
When SCK left, I went online and found Laura on MSN. "thanks for dropping the stuff off", she said, though the chat quickly descended into mutual ugliness.
Anyway, she still has my phone and I still have her cat. I hope to see the former again (though I half expect her to keep it - non-functioning as it is - out of misplaced spite) and am unsure whether or not I want her to come for her cat; I like Spyder, and I like knowing Chet has some companionship when I am not around.
All in all, I suppose as break-ups go, this one has been relatively non-ugly.
And, to my amazement, I am starting to feel (almost) good.
Perhaps because there was betrayals involved, the intense love I felt for Laura seems to have blown out of my heart as if the latter was a pricked balloon. It's refilling now, with hope, with happy memories and (thank god) my basic confidence that most people are fundamentally decent and honest human beings (that last said, I'll be more careful in future when I have reason for suspicion).
Getting her things out was a huge weight of my mind and spirit. I intend this week, to get the apartment in order, type up the short story which still sits in long-hand, and even get out and meet some people (at least one of you knows who you are!).
That's it. With a little luck, my next post will be about something other than the state of my spirits.
Edit: Well, the cat is gone and she returned the cell-phone. I also handed over a garbage bag and basket of stuff I'd forgotten during the main move. For some reason, she just dropped-in, rather than calling or emailing me first, and since I was about to go out (and, okay, for spite) I didn't let her in. All that's left is to clean up and put aside all she's left on the floors and various nooks and crannies. Really almost done, I hope.