What a week.

I am starting my 3-day weekend, yay me! I'm taking off from work on Monday so I can have a 'Me Day'. (No, Beth, I'm not going to the clinic.) I think I deserve a day off.

I have to say that I'm doing tremendously well, all things considered. I didn't expect to feel ok this soon. I guess that speaks volumes.

It's been nice to go a whole week without crying.

Ok, 5 days. But that's still a record.

We still have some loose ends to take care of, and it usually makes me angry to talk to him. Silence really is golden. So when I have to call him to ask him something, it doesn't go well. I've got an attitude, he's got that smarmy, smartass tone in his voice. Blech. Not good.

When I got home from work yesterday, I noticed that there was a towel - his favorite towel - hanging over the fence on my back patio. Hmm. So I ask the mini-teen if she put it there. She says no, and why would she put a towel on the patio?

Dammit. Now I have to call and ask him if he'd been at the apartment without telling me.

It didn't go very well. I asked, he said no, then proceeded to go on one of his ridiculous rants about who knows what, I kinda stopped listening. He seemed genuinely offended that I would accuse him of such a thing. I wasn't accusing, I was just asking, but that's beside the point. He offered his buddies as back-up that he'd been with them all day. Uh-huh. Like they wouldn't lie for you. Whatever. Things got nastier and finally ended on a sour note, and I decided that this was one of his little games to make me think I'm crazy. He is guilty, mystery solved.

I go back into the living room and Emily says, "Um, I forgot. I did put that towel on the porch."