(Feeling) is…

Well, this is going to be a bit different today. But this lapse is only happening once in a blue moon, so don’t go thinkin’ that I’m losing my edge. ‘Cos I’m not…! *stamps foot indignantly*

Solace is: having the interminable loneliness relieved by the tenancy of your ex-wife’s two cats.

Annoyance is: having to constantly clean up after these two cats.

Vexed is: needing to fetch these cats off the roof if you leave them outside for too long in the evening.

Perturbed is: trying to work the feeling back into your feet after being out in the cold for too long, fearing that your feet will fall off because you’ve been fetching cats off rooves.

Irked is: putting disinfectant on the scratches you receive from simply owning a cat. It’s a fact of life. Cat ownership = cuts and scratches.

Frustration is: putting the headphones of your iPod into your ears, only to find the one of the cats has chewed through the wire overnight.

Vehemence is: redirecting your feelings towards the person who placed the cats in your care in the first place.

Retribution is: conditioning the cats so that when she takes them back, they drive her up the wall.

Amusement is: feeding the cats on the kitchen bench, knowing that the ex-wife hates them on the bench. Now, whenever she feeds them, they’ll climb all over her bench.

Further amusement is: constantly giving the cats something out of the fridge, so that in future, whenever you open the fridge door, the cats go ape-poop.

Hysteria is: giving the cats the top shelf, expensive food all the time so that they refuse to eat the standard stuff. This part is true. Cat’s are finicky and these two will now refuse to eat anything under AU$2.50 per tin

Guilt is: knowing how immature and petty you’re being.

Validation is: knowing that she deserves it. Besides, this is harmless compared to what I could do.

As you can gather, I’m currently babysitting my ex-wife’s cats. I haven’t been much of a cat person in the past, but I like these two cats. They have “character” (don’t they all, ladies?). In fact, I like most animals, so to walk around my house kicking them because they’re in the way seems erroneous, and needlessly cruel to say the least.

Oh, and if that above list paints an unsanitary picture of some unshaven bachelor, strutting around his house in a singlet and boxer shorts with flies buzzing around his head, then you’d be wrong. Honest. Those are moths, not flies. And I can’t afford a singlet.

No, I jest. Really. I’m a clean person. Don’t look at me like that.

The upside of having these cats (there is one) is that I simply do not need television. Watching them both fly around the house whenever they’re in a crazy mood is far more amusing than watching someone’s insides getting punctured by a stiletto high heel shoe on CSI.


"Oi! C'mere! Look at me! Stop watching that TV!" 

But more to the point of this post… (this is the only time I’m going to talk about this, okay?)

I’m sure that the above activities suggest that this author is a tad bitter, and some of you may be wondering about the mental stability of this jilted young man.

I guess now is the time that I outline that I’m not distraught over the separation with my wife. Frankly, as far as I can see, life has improved since that event. Friends look at me with some degree of scepticism when I inform them that I’m actually “quite over” my wife, which totally baffles me. “It’s only been three months!” they declare openly, as though the revelation would have Sherlock Holmes amazed at their brutal powers of deduction. But I guess it’s easy to be baffled when you’re in my shoes… which I was, the last time I checked.

What is so difficult to comprehend about it? I know that I was nothing but the most devoted, yet still respectful, husband, and yet she still turned her back on me. I have absolutely no doubt in my head that it had nothing to do with me, and all to do with her. This is not denial; it’s fact. She acted on what she wanted, and that’s what ended us.

I don’t need to devote myself to people like that.

It’s like building a sand castle, only to have it wash away with the tide. Over time, you’d surely get to a point where you’d have to give up on it. And that’s what I’ve done.

I’ve given up on her. I don’t feel sad about it, nor do I feel happy. There is nothing there. No love. No hate. Just an over arching sense of… “meh”. I have my life back, I am free, and I am accountable to only one person; myself.

Like I said, this is the only time I’m talking about this, because there are far better things to write about than an event that I feel largely indifferent about.