I approached the kitchen table with less speed or efficiency than Rachel Ray on one of her cooking shows. I had my coffee cup in one hand, a gel pen and an old junkmail envelope in the other. I forgot the milk and had to go to the refrigerator twice because I couldn't remember what I wanted until I was already back at the table. Sure I could have put my whole list on a spreadsheet on the computer, but I wanted to be able to physically check things off and be able to actually see what I had accomplished from day to day.
Had I been more creative, the list would have been longer, more complete. As it stood, there weren't that many items on it:
1) withdraw all funds from joint checking and savings accounts
Since Grady had never put any money into the account, there was no reason to keep his name on them
2) reopen accounts at a new credit union under my name
3) remove Grady from credit cards
As an authorized user, he had no control if I canceled things or not
4) cancel Grady's car insurance
No, I wouldn't have to worry about that. The insurance automatically came out of our joint account each month. No account. No insurance. No hassle. No problem.
5) change locks on apartment
6) sell all of his law books on Craigslist for a penny
7) sell his clothes on Craigslist for a penny
8) go to the doctor and get checked for STDs.
9) review all of my finances and find any document that Grady was the beneficiary
There would be more items, for now this was enough of a start.
I left him a voicemail while he was at dinner with Jan. He had until noon the next day to to get everything of his out of our apartment. Per the voicemail anything left was, defacto, mine to do with as I pleased. As I paid for everything there anyway, he didn't have a hell of a lot of say in the matter.
My father came over to be with me so I wouldn't be alone with Grady and to change the deadbolt before I had to go to work Sunday afternoon. My schedule hadn't changed in years and I hadn't expected to need to call in for an afternoon off to make sure Grady didn't take anything from the place that wasn't his in the first place.
The night before, I stayed up most of the night packing his clothes into his two suitcases and some garbage bags. What I'd really wanted to do was be really petty and take a razor and shred all of his clothes, but I just couldn't do it. If he didn't show up, it would be easier for me to donate things to charity if they were packed nicely. If he did show up, he'd be out of the house faster.
"Remember the old curtains?" my dad asked.
"Sure."
Grandma was Dad's mom and when it came to decorating, it was her way or the high way. Unfortunately, her taste got stuck sometime between 1967 and 1973. In bits and pieces it wouldn't be so bad, but every room seemed to celebrate that era. Forty years ago, my grandmother went to a fabric store that was closing and bought all of the plaid fabric they had, declared it to be the family tartan, and made curtains for every room from it. Who knew the Scots had a thing for light purple, yellow, and hot pink? Then she made slip covers for her sofa, aprons, table cloths, and I don't know what else. It was the never ending bolt of fabric. She even tried to sneak it into my parent's wedding; I'm still not sure if she was frugal or just nuts about that fabric.
"We're putting them up tonight," he said. "Then we're going to paint."
"I'm going to have to work," I said. I wanted to see how ugly we could make the bungalow and at the same time, couldn't stand the idea that they'd move into a love nest, even if it looked like it had been decorated by TV moms.
My dad grunted and gave a tight nod. "Pick you up at six?"
~~
tbc
word count: 789
distracted tonight, but at least I'm updating ...
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