Friday I actually stayed at the office late (alone) and earned my keep. Sometimes it is easier just to stay rooted in place then to actually pack up and move. I caught up on printing paperwork thus saving my ink at home and now next week will consist entirely of me blogging and finding excuses to leave the office.
My mind was drifting while I dove home. I was thinking about what I was going to post and thinking about how much I just wanted to go to bed. Twin B's bowling ball was in the back seat and I knew he would need it the next morning. It was on my list to drop it off on the way home but I pulled into my garage before remembering.
Sighing, I pulled back out into the night. A light snow was falling. A light snow is always falling. When I got to The Ex's house a big black Z-71 pick-up was parked in the middle of the long arched drive. I couldn't help but ask myself ,who the hell parks their vehicle in the middle of the fucking drive. I didn't bother plowing my truck through the snow piled to either side I just left it parked with the engine running at the end of the drive.
I trudged my way up through drifted snow toward the door. The front of the house was dark but the lights in the den lit up the room through the picture window in the front. It was a Hallmark scene, Max my eleven year old, was on the computer probably playing his latest Facebook game favorite. The Ex's latest boyfriend was sitting next to him pretending interest. The room's blue walls scream out at you oppressively. It is a hideous color she has painted the den.
I ignore the sight, step up onto the porch and ring the doorbell. Twin B answers, "What?"
Who answers the door that way? People give the Mormon's more courtesy. I hand him the black bag continuing his bowling ball. I for go any reproachful comments, just turn around and leave. I notice as I get back into my truck that Twin B has joined the cluster in the Den.
Somethings are taken from you, somethings you don't fight hard enough for.