Her first week away with daddy...and it can't end soon enough.

I'm seething, stewing, and super pissed.

I stole the title of this post from the comment I just left to Nermi. And I did so because it so perfectly captures my current state of mind. If you've been reading lately (I know, who can follow my sporadic nature?!), you know I've been sitting on the draft of our separation agreement for what's now more than a month. The morning I saw it in my inbox, I cried all the way to work. Then I couldn't even think about printing it out for two weeks. And for nearly the last three, it's been on top of the printer staring at me. I just haven't had it in me to pick it up.

But today we had one of our usual assinine exchanges whenever I bring up something "important" and now I know I'm ready to tackle it (well, tomorrow, when I'm fresh, and not delirious from working on a damn project while I'm supposed to be on vacation. Bitter? No, not me!). Anyway, our daughter had a minor procedure today and we both attended. She did great, but he offered to come back to the house to see how she was and to maybe do a few things in the yard. Fine. So as we're winding down, I mention that I wanted us to make time to discuss a general timeline for the house, as in what furniture are we going to try to sell, what can we start getting rid of, and when should we put it up on the market. We have already discussed keeping just long enough so that Miss Monkey can finish Pre-K at her same school. Or most of it.

I'm stuck in one of my ebbs. A few reasons why:

I finally printed out the separation agreement, but it's been sitting in the tray for almost a week. Twenty years boiled down to dollars and custody and wrapped up in 36 double-spaced pages.