I just came home from a week-long business trip. All I wanted to do was do some laundry, take a shower, collapse on my bed, and maybe talk with Kat for a minute or two.
Kat had her new boyfriend over for dinner, movies, etc (don't know what the "etc" was, and don't really care). The washing machine is on her side of the house, and out of privacy, I didn't want to be dragging my dirty laundry back and forth and possibly disturbing them.
While I was gone, the dogs (well, probably Max, but I'm sure the others helped) pretty much trashed my bedroom. They got into a box of Kleenex, so there are shredded tissues and cardboard all over my floor and my bed. I'm going to sleep in the chair tonight, because I'm too tired to deal with it.
I'm also too tired to deal with the mountain of dog shit in my bathroom closet. Max seems to have a problem with housebreaking, and I occasionally come home at the end of the day to a steaming surprise in my bathroom. Well, multiply that by seven days, plus the fact that I was gone and didn't clean the floor with bleach to discourage him, and you can imagine the mess. My room stinks to high heaven, a combination of shit, piss, and not-quite-effective air freshener. It smells like a nursing home.
Kat looks after the dogs while I'm gone, but that's just giving them food and water. She doesn't do anything about the mess (nor should she; they're my dogs and my responsibility), and with her school, work, and personal schedule, the dogs are usually left alone for nearly 24 hours at a stretch. I have to travel again over Thanksgiving, and it's waaay too late to get the boys into the kennel, so I can expect to come home to another dogified room next Sunday. After that, I'll make arrangements with the kennel to get them in for my next trip.
My work schedule has changed significantly over the past year, and I'm putting in long hours at the office, as well as traveling out of town a lot more often. It pains me to admit this, but I just can't handle having a dog, let alone two. This may be callous, but Edison is going to die any day now (although we've been saying that for three years now; that little shit is too ornery to die), and while I will miss him terribly, it will be one less thing to worry about when I'm away from home. I still have GOT to find Max a new home. It's not fair to him, to me, to Kat, or to the other dogs.
(If anyone reading this journal would like a dog, please let me know. I'm serious. He's a rat terrier mix, about a year and a half old, just been fixed. He likes to jump, loves kids, and is a major cuddle-pup. I will drive anywhere within a 750 mile radius to bring him to you. I'll even bring all of the necessary supplies [food, dishes, collar, leash, dog blanket, toys and treats] to get you started. If you or anyone you know may be interested, post a comment or send me an email using the address on my profile page.)
There some other stuff that's bothering me, but I'm writing it off to being very tired, worn out from a solid week of 12+ hour days.
I'm also starting to feel uncomfortable in my own house. Kat and J are at the start of a budding romance, and I really don't want to do anything to discourage them (they do make a very nice couple), but I feel REALLY awkward if I have to interrupt their time together for my necessities (laundry, a question about some bills, looking for my mail). We really are becoming more distant, seeing less and less of each other, and knowing that there's a part of her life that is none of my business and would be totally inappropriate for me to even ask about. We've moved well beyond the ex-spouse thing, even beyond close friends, and are more or less just roommates, and the strain is palpable.
I think I have to move ahead with putting the house on the market this spring. It will cost me a ton of time and money to get the exterior cleaned up (landscaping, paint, probably replacing sections of the fence) and redo the interior (painting all of the rooms, replacing the carpet, redoing the bathroom tile), and I know I'll be lucky to break even, but I have to face reality; Kat and I can't live together anymore.
I also realize that as soon as we move to separate apartments, any pretense of a continuing acquaintance is going to die a quick death. My presence in her life is an unnecessary complication, and I think the sooner I'm away from her, the happier she will be.
EDIT: I was just mildly scolded by Kat for disturbing her and J. Apparently it really bothers him when he is reminded that I live here too.
I disturbed them exactly three times: once when I called home and asked Kat to unlock the front door (I left my house key at the office), once when I asked where my mail from this week was (it was on her car seat), and once when I wanted to find out why our cellphone bill jumped by $50 (she added a new line).
Excuse me: I've been gone for a week, spoken with her twice in that time (once when she called me to tell me that she was going to J's house for Thanksgiving, so I was on my own, and once when I called her to tell her when I would be home), and I don't think I'm asking too much to be able to say "hi" without causing her boyfriend to get in a snit.
Yep, it's official: Kat is acting just like an ex-wife, and I'm sure I'm acting just like an ex-husband.