In Which Buzz Kill Blows a Gasket

T minus sixteen hours and counting until Velvet and I head west with the sunrise. Tomorrow morning, baby goes to college.

It's a big deal.

Apparently, Buzz Kill isn't managing as well as I am - most likely because he's trapped in his own personal hell. The fighting started Sunday and seemed to be heading to new heights of hostility when I took a Valium. If I had to attribute Buzz Kill's obnoxious agitation to one source, I suspect it's like that old Robin Williams joke where a man's ex-wife pulls his balls off through his wallet.

From where I sit - in the nice apartment with child support and alimony - I can see why Buzz Kill might feel resentful. Nevertheless, in the years leading up to the divorce, I told him specifically and concretely what needed to happen if he wanted to stay married. Buzz Kill watches enough TV to know that in Divorceland the first wife gets the home, the kid and the money. He made his own choices. I don't know what he thought was going to happen, and it's not my fault that he's living with his mother indefinitely. I can see how the man might be seething with resentment, though, now that his only child is off to college and his ex-wife is parked securely in a nice apartment collecting alimony and child support for another three years.

Although things are on an even keel today, Sunday was problematic. Buzz Kill dropped in at noon and started bossing me and Velvet around. There is a distinct possibility that Buzz Kill informed Velvet that they would be packing for college on Sunday. Velvet can't quite recollect. In any case, I had no clue what was happening until Buzz Kill proceeded to do Velvet's laundry. When I pointed out that Buzz Kill had a responsibility to check with me before he made plans to do anything in my home, Buzz Kill told me to call the police if I didn't like it. The conversation deteriorated from there.

Fortunately the Valium kicked in rapidly so the neighbors were not subjected to our marital dysfunction for more than ten or fifteen minutes. The good news is that Velvet saw that I needed to stand up for myself, but it would have been better if I could have done it without causing a scene. I'm sorry to say that I tossed a pile of clothes off the bed, plopped down and refused to move when Buzz Kill told me to go to my room. Then I demanded an explanation from Velvet as to why his underwear were on the bookshelves. I was only mildly embarrassed when Velvet explained that they landed on the bookshelves when I threw them.

I may be theatrical and ridiculous, but at least I'm not a whiny bitch like his father. Buzz Kill was a supreme whiny bitch - threatening to sell the apartment out from under me so I'd be out on the street next month. By that time, I was fully sedated and didn't take the bait. The sad thing is that if Buzz Kill had the balls to actually fuck with me, we'd still be married. It brings us back to The Taming of the Shrew. Kate needs Petruccio, but I chose to marry Felix Unger.

Buzz Kill was over until midnight last night working on Velvet's new laptop. Velvet was out with friends the whole time, but Buzz Kill insisted he was most comfortable working over here instead of at his own place. We were able to have a quiet talk, and Buzz Kill admitted he was freaking out about a number of things and took it out on me. He genuinely regretted that he acted like a butt head, and I could let it go. That's really all anyone can do.

As long as a person takes responsibility for his/her role in a situation, I don't hold a grudge. When someone won't own his own bullshit, though, and blames me for everything, I have trouble letting bygones be bygones. I told Buzz Kill that as long as he would be respectful and not yell at me, I'd still give him a ride home from Syracuse. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Right now, the focus is back where it belongs: Getting Velvet settled comfortably at Tree Hugger University with a minimum of assaholic behavior from the grown-ups.