I got a letter in the mail last Friday from an unknown sender. There was one of those official-looking stamps peeking through the window in the envelope, and those tend to strike fear into my heart. (I have been known to take my student loan payments a little less seriously than I should.)

Anyway, after looking around for the nearest stiff drink and realizing that since I'm pregnant I could be tripping over Maker's Mark and it wouldn't do me a damn bit of good, I opened the letter. It was from the city. About my divorce.

Did I not mention I'd filed for divorce? Well, apparently I did.

A long time ago — like, years ago — I went to see a paralegal and paid her half her fee. Then I, uh, forgot. Apparently she actually started proceedings. Unlike me, the city did not forget.

They were writing to tell me that if I didn't complete proceedings within 60 days, they would assume my husband and I had reconciled and would cancel the filing.

Many people have a divorce filed behind their back and are surprised when they receive papers in the mail. But what kind of person is surprised by their own papers? How disorganized do you have to be to forget you filed for divorce?

I will probably get off my ass and pay this woman her $400 and soon enough I will be divorced. Then maybe I'll actually marry my partner of four years, the father of most of my children. Maybe not. Tough to say.

In the meantime, I will sit back and rub the official stamp between my fingers, amazed at my own ineptitude.