It was The Pilot's fault. It usually is, so I'll continue blaming him in this case, as well.
Here's what happened.
I had mice in my townhome. I'm ashamed to admit that. But it's far less embarrassing than the rest of the story, so eff it. Anyway, these little vermon have been invading my home for the last several weeks. One big rain and all the creatures in our community (including the humans) freaked out. Only the neighbors with cats have been spared. Mine stayed long enough to make me absolutely nuts. I figured out where they were coming from and one morning, put my hair up in a pony tail, donned rubber gloves, and began plugging all the holes.
It never occurred to me that I might be trapping a couple IN.
Mickey and Minnie had been hiding under my fridge. Eeeewww to the tenth power, let me tell you! I could see them and hear them late at night when the kids were in bed. Hearing their little claws scratch at the holes and the floor and all over looking for some way to get out or get food. Or maybe they were just gettin' it on. Who knows. The scratchety scratch scratch noises were sending me off the Cliffs of Insanity! So I did the only thing I could.
I made a man set the traps.
The next day, I woke up to find that not only had a mouse been trapped, but apparently it was still alive enough to try crawling back to the refrigerator. I nearly lost it. No, wait. I did lose it. I couldn't walk into the kitchen to make breakfast because I would first have to dispose of this little icky thing, which I couldn't do because I was too freaked out thinking about it struggling to get out and trapped and ICK!!! So I called The Pilot to come over (with breakfast) to get rid of it. Thirty minutes later, he was there with hotcakes and coffee. While we sat to eat, he did the dirty deed for me.
I was so grateful!
So when he went to leave, I looked around to see if anyone was there, then I called to him. When he turned around, I lifted my top up like a co-ed on Girls Gone Wild... just as the neighbor walked by and looked in.
And that's why I have to kill him.
But your probably wondering why I had to call The Pilot to come over to do something that a husband would just come downstairs or into the next room to do. Well, it's like this. My husband (aka The Pilot) moved out a few months ago. It was mutual except for the timing. I was hoping he'd wait until after the holidays, but he was tired of sleeping on the couch.
I don't blame him.
But about a month after he moved out, we started dating again. We've been down this road before and reconciled. We both agreed reconciling was where we went horribly wrong. So now, we remain married, husband and wife, but living apart. No, we're not swingers, people. For goodness sakes. But we are quite difficult to live with. We both know that. Still, we love each other. And our kids. And this works. For us.
But, oh my lanta, it does not work for others around us!
I have friends that keep coming up with solutions for how we can live together again. Their advice always starts with "You guys should..." or "What you guys need is..." I don't get mad. I understand their confusion. I do remind them that we've tried everything and that the one thing that works for us is living apart. We still have many meals together. The kids spend tons of time with both of us. It's like we're a regular family. The difference in our lives is that we're all happier. This is where we're at and if people don't like it, they don't have to look.
Anyway, there you go. If my neighbor ends up dead, it's because I had to flash my boobs at my husband that I don't live with anymore. So yeah...
it's all his fault.