Giggling on the Couch

I began the week thinking that I was going to give a deposition tomorrow in preparation for trial at the end of the month. It has made my stomach knot so badly that I think I’ve given myself my own gastric bypass, even though I need to gain weight instead of losing it. I want an ass again instead of two pancakes. But I digress.

I was heading toward the elevator this morning to begin work when I looked up from furiously text messaging to see that Dr. X was holding the elevator for me. I sped up my pace and thanked him for holding the door.

“So how are you?” I asked.

Though I didn’t mean to insinuate anything about his split, he answered with a half-chuckle, “Just fine, as you well know. Pasting that smile on my face and pretending that everything is terrific. How about you?”

“Oh, fan-freakin’-tastic!” I laughed.

We joked about our respective problems on the short ride up, sharing brief horror stories, laughing, and telling each other to hang in there when we exited the elevator and went to our separate clinics. It spurred me to think about how I can genuinely laugh about this horrific situation with certain people, and more specifically, the absurdities that make me laugh.

With Dr. X, I can laugh because I know his soon-to-be-ex is making his life a living hell and needling him for more than that to which she is entitled. I can commiserate on both levels.

With respect to the latter, that being the Ex needling for more than that to which he or she is entitled, I live it each day. Not only is Ex vying for half of my trust fund, but since I moved out, he’s refused to either split the furniture in the house with me or to reasonably furnish the condo. Both bedrooms in my place were furnished and there were bar stools at the kitchen island along with a couple of coffee table chairs when we separated, but dining room table and chairs? No. Couch? No. Coffee table or storage for books? No. You get the idea. Seriously, who doesn't have a couch? I'm not an 18-year-old undergrad anymore, so that makes the situation simply unexplainable and untenable.

I’ve already mentioned how I’m still a partner in and started one of Ex’s (very visible) businesses from which I never drew a salary, how I started two of his other companies for him, as well as how I’m a poor graduate student. My job doesn’t pay that well and the bartending gig is only one night a week. Really, is it too selfish to ask that the condo be furnished after living here for a year and a half and being his business partner for 5 years? I mean, I know I can be a selfish bitch sometimes, but in truth, that only happens if someone wants me to donate my motorcycle to them because they just really want it or perhaps make me foot the entire bill for a $3,000 night out. That being said, I’d give you my kidney if you needed it, even if I didn't know you. To boot, the law in our state dictates that we split the marital assets in half, of which furniture is one, and I asked for not even one quarter of that. Apparently, that’s too much, because he refused.

Lawyer called me today at work and said that the deposition had been postponed, potentially for Monday, but he wanted me to provide him with some photos in preparation. I was just thrilled that I’d been vomiting a little in my mouth all week for nothing. Regardless, he needed photos of all vehicles in question, which, if you count the motorcycles, ends up being 7. He also wanted photos of the house as well as those of the half-furnished condo.

I have photos of most of the vehicles and the house, and also have photos of the half-furnished condo that I took about a year ago, thankfully.

I say, “thankfully,” because someone helped me furnish the condo several months ago and current photos would not reflect the previously half-assed furnishings. This person is kind, generous, and sensitive. Sometimes air-headed, but the good things make up for that in spades. Again, I digress.

I was thanking my lucky stars for having the foresight to take those photos before the benevolent person to whom I referred helped me furnish this place. And then I thought about how I was able to laugh at the absurdity of not having furniture for so long, as well as laugh at the general incongruity of a contentious divorce like mine. It’s not that I now have furniture, because I laughed before that when the gorgeous Ms. Lemon Gloria Lisa visited and had to endure a night at my echoingly empty condo. It's not that I'm getting closer to a resolution, either.

I laugh because the sheer absurdity of the machinations of divorce confound me. I laugh because it takes so long. I laugh because sometimes I want to jump off of my balcony, and I’m not a suicidal person at all.

Then again, I think maybe Dr. X laughs for the same reason as this one. I laugh because if I don’t, I’ll cry.

And I laugh because….