De Clutter Is Leaving De House

There is a decided shift in the force. Either that, or I've finally succumbed to the manic side of manic depression (having traversed the flip side for longer than is comfortable).

I think it's because I'm seeing progress. Not LEGAL progress, mind you. More like psychological and physical progress.

Plus, the de-worming pills that I'm taking are kicking in and I can finally attest to just how awful I was feeling because I am now feeling so much better. Hooray for not having parasites!

Maybe it's the birthday thing coming up. It's another demarcation in my life, my own personal demarcation. It is not another anniversary of awful events. It's not He-that-shall-not-be-named's birthday (I'm growing weary of STBX. HOW SOON??? THIS HAS NOT BEEN SOON!) And it is not my upcoming wedding anniversary (November 23rd! Be sure to send me happy anniversary greetings on that very special occasion...) My birthday will be a time to look back at last year and to realize how much better things are now. For all the shit and shinola, things are soooo much better. (Now pass me that wallpaper paste, I'm hungry!)

Or perhaps it's the fact that I'm starting to see so much progress in the purging of the house. It's one thing to get rid of the clothes and the photos and all traces of his personal existence. It's quite another to clean out 12 years of his piles and abandoned projects, computer hardware and porn.

Remembering how he would come up with grand plans and either never start them or abandon them after 15 minutes of work and finding out that I can kick it in the ass and get it done because I'm not sitting in front of the computer, cyber-fucking a loser, can sometimes make me cranky. These are not my plans, these are not my projects, this is not my mess. Yet, it is another sweet, sweet inheritance that I have to deal with.

BUT, there are always days like today. Days that I get to load up the car with his shit. Days that I take my little coupon for the dump and I get to do just that: Dump.

I'm not sure if the dump-master (kinda like the dungeon master, only a bit more smelly) understood why I didn't just set each item in the proper bin. I held it over my head and I threw it down with all my might.

Smashy Smashy.

It felt so good.