Getting Rid of the Husband, Getting Rid of the Bed

Getting Rid of the Husband, Getting Rid of the Bed

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I moved again. Second year without Levi and our second move. Man, I'm getting tired of lugging all of this stuff around.

With each move, comes new discoveries. Papers stuffed into desk drawers, Christmas and Birthday cards from happier times, pictures of Levi and I — our various vacations, our wedding, and several goofy ones.

The last time I looked at these things, I couldn't bring myself to throw them out. Who knows why — I guess there's just nothing like torturing yourself when your massively depressed.

But the somewhat remarkable thing is, that this time, they didn't sting as much as they did before. Actually, some of them didn't even phase me. This time I was able to throw most of them out.

I suppose this is yet another sign that I've almost worked all the way through this.

There is one thing, though, one overwhelming piece of furniture that I am quite sick of: the bed.

This bed is a monstrosity, an enormous king-sized monstrosity. I look at it as a testament to everything that I can't stand about Levi.

The over-indulging. The need to have the "best" of everything or rather, the need to have...everything.

I can't stand the damn thing.

My ex-boyfriend, on the other hand, loves that bed. So much so, that after listening to my complaining about it he offered to trade. He has a brand-new queen-sized bed that he's willing to trade for my king.

Awesome.

It wasn't until it was pointed out to me later that I got the irony of the whole thing: Ex-boyfriend inherits ex-husband's bed.