The police stop by again

The cops left about an hour ago...

Here we go again. It is the usual ploy. If something doesn't go your way, call the police and pretend to cry.

Now, of course, there are cases every day where men are abusive to their wives, but I can wholeheartedly assure the reader that this is NOT one of those cases. Of course, if you know me, you probably already knew that.

Tonight she was packing. I could have turned the other way but instead I looked in the box she was filling. She was packing decorations. But these are not things on her list of property. I probably should have ignored it. Decorations aren't that important. But these were mostly Halloween decorations and I wanted to keep them, and I wanted to remind her that she should be sticking to her list.

Now, a couple candles, boxes, and vases don't really mean much. But if she keeps going, I will have to spend a few hundred dollars (at least) at Target to get more stuff. And at this point, after her bank account is nearly busting at the seams with her settlement payoff, I didn't feel like spending money I no longer have. So I said--and notice these are quotation marks, "These things are not on your list. You really need to stick to your list."

She laughed.

"And I would like to see inside that storage container in the driveway," I said.

I think she laughed again. I don't remember her exact words, but she told me No. I told her that it is only fair that I know what she is taking, since the items should be on her list.

No, she told me again. So I said that if she doesn't allow me to see what she is taking, I will open the container myself. "Go ahead," she said. At this point I realized she was never going to let me see what she was really taking.

This is where the honking bolt cutters come into play. And let me tell you, they really do work. Even through hardened steel. They cut through that padlock like it was nothing. I was secretly amazed. And before I could even admire my handiwork, she was dialing the police.

The rest of the night was a very familiar rerun for the neighbors. We stood on the front lawn while 4 police officers questioned us and rolled their eyes. She put on a great act. She tells them I "aggressed" her and frightened her with those really cool bolt cutters. I was trying to get at her stuff and God knows what I would have done with it. She told them that she had offered to let me see everything (not true). She told them that I am constantly harassing her. Her daughter had trouble containing herself and also threw in lots of accusations.

Meanwhile I told my officer that I only want to know what she is taking. That is all. I had asked her a couple of times now to let me see what she is hiding and each time she told me No. So I exercised what I thought was my right to see inside this pod that landed on my driveway. I don't want to touch or reclaim anything, I just want to know what is being taken.

The cops were at a loss. On one hand they acknowledged that I need to know what an ex-wife is taking out of my house. But on the other hand they frowned on the use of bolt cutters. They suggested that I help her pack instead.

Hmm. I can imagine how that would work.... "Oh here Dear, let me help you pack this very fragile thing that I paid for." Yeah. I don't think that would work well.

But in the end, there was nothing the cops could do except tell us to act like adults and pack together from now on, as if we were going on vacation. Fine. Looks like I will have to use the lawyer again, which will probably cost almost as much as Target. And now I owe her a new padlock.

After the cops left, both ex-wife and ex-step-daughter dressed me down for being uncontrollably bitter and aggressive, not really grasping the whole concept of robbery. They unloaded a few other gripes and complaints. I tried reason, but all they could do is ask me why I wanted the cookie sheet she packed.

"It's not about the cookie sheet," I said. "You can't just take whatever you want and refuse to let me see what you're taking. We agreed on a list."

They responded with a string of insults, both talking over each other. I threw in a couple things about how they will live their whole lives being supported by others.

Now they are upstairs talking in a bedroom; probably plotting which box to put me in, and I am just thinking about those bolt cutters. They're awesome!