The blue velvet chaise is going. My agent does not want it in the house while it is being shown because it shows so much better without it. From spending time on the deck last year, one leg has already split and the velvet got all damp. It has been back inside drying out but that was just a fucking waste of time and good intentions. It is going back out on the deck and then is going away - whether to the dump or to someone, I don't know.
Today is the last day of getting the place back ready after it came off the market at Thanksgiving. I have been paying the price for not doing any housework other than dishes and laundry since then. Oh well. I have gotten rid of so much stuff - when I moved up here, when I stripped things down to sell the place - it feels like there really isn't anything left that is "me" to strip out. I am back to living in a house that is not "me", living a lifestyle that is not "me". Should not be much a surprise that there does not feel like much "me" is left anywhere anymore. Judas forking priest, it brings back all that crap from when I was married to the fundy, who demanded that everything look perfect to anyone who looked. Looking perfect was more important than the actual people.
And, of course, the fundy is hassling me for money - he has sent nasty emails threatening lawsuits unless I jump through his hoops according to his time schedule. I feel like telling him to just get in line and to take a fucking number. He told baby girl that his gift to her was he would pay her medical insurance (without discussing that with me) - and is demanding that I reimburse him for half of that gift - otherwise, I'm not a good mother and am not involved in my daughter's life and I am the bad parent that he always knew I was.
I want to just crawl into bed or under a rock or hide or something.
The blue velvet chaise is going away. Dayam, I really fucking loved that piece of furniture. I know it is just a piece of furniture but it was mine, it spoke to me. It mattered.
I'm going to go throw up now.