She's a Packing

Each day when I come home from work there are more boxes in the garage and less things hanging on the walls. It is odd, like my home is slowly melting. While I am gone during the day, someone is deconstructing everything.

The boxes in the garage are taped shut and labeled, but I don't trust the labels. I suspect that some of the stuff is mine. So I open and inspect each box. Last night I found silverware that is mine. Previously I found a cookie sheet I bought, and some other small items. I take all the things of mine that I find and put them in the locked basement. Those things are now safe. They are added to my Schindler's List of household items that will stay.

She knows now that I know when she got paid. And her move-out day should be the 13th. When I mentioned that she should only pay me for half the month (like she will pay anything at all) she told me that her new place won't be ready until the 28th.

She asked if I really expect her to move out on the 13th. Yes I do, I told her. And I felt bad about it. I thought that maybe she would negotiate on that point. Maybe she would pay me for extra time. But she had nothing further to say. Later she was looking through the yellow pages for a mover.

Much later, when I mentioned to Dale that perhaps I should have offered to let her stay longer, he told me that--before I make such a decision--I should read a blog called Delivermefromevil. Then perhaps I'd come back to reality.

I read a few pages and I was struck by how the author was taken advantage of; and how he was able to write such drivel. So I decided to not do that.