How often do you buy yourself flowers? They’re one of my indulgences.

Well, one of my many indulgences.

I believe in self-gifting.

Nothing extravagant, just a $4 bouquet of carnations or daisies or mixed flowers from the grocery store. I know this sounds cheesy and corny and kind of out of character for me, but my little bouquets are just enough to make the day feel special and make me stop for a whiff as I walk through the house. I really think we should all take the time and do this more often – treat ourselves to something that we traditionally wait for others to give us, because in the words of @JenKCunningham, we fucking deserve it.

But please, no baby’s breath.

PS
Wouldn’t it be awesome to have a fund so that people could buy themselves a $4 bouquet every so often? All our internet friends sign up, throw what they can afford in a pot, and once a week we PayPal someone $4 with a note to treat themselves. I’m loving this idea.

I wasn’t looking forward to this morning.

I had an appointment with a lawyer at the county law library to review the completed divorce decree. On the way, the car directly in front of me was weaving back and forth and then misjudged a turn, jumping the curb and smashing into a tree amongst a corner of unruly bushes. Once I got to the courthouse the only available parking space was right next to a sign that said “Travis County Inmate Unloading Area Only” which is always comforting.

Anyway, it was an uncontested divorce, so up until today I’ve waded through the legal jargon and filed out all the paperwork myself, but I wanted someone to review the final forms before I submitted them to the courts. Someone to say yes, you’ve done everything correctly, the judgment looks fair, and the judge will grant your divorce; no, you didn’t screw anything up besides your marriage, your career, and possibly your chance to ever have children.

You know, just to put my mind at ease.

The lawyer was wonderful. She was kind and helpful and made some small changes to ensure the proceedings ran smoothly. She was also a total bully who ushered me off to the courtroom to read my testimony in front of the judge and two dozen strangers as soon as she signed off on the last page.

My name is Corrin Foster.

I filed this suit for divorce from my spouse.

At the time I filed this divorce, I had lived in Texas for at least the last six months and in Travis County for at least ninety days.

Our marriage has become unworkable. There is no reasonable chance that we will get back together.

My spouse and I do not have any minor children, by birth or adoption.

I am not currently pregnant and I did not have children with anyone else during our marriage.

I ask that our property and debts be divided as set forth in the Decree of Divorce.

I believe this division is fair to both me and my spouse.

I respectfully ask the Court to grant my divorce.

I was completely unprepared to finalize the last eight years of my life in under eight minutes, but in some ways it was a relief that I didn’t realize what was happening until I was standing in the courtroom taking an oath. As much as I wanted things to be done and over, I would have held on to that paperwork until the next court date just happy knowing that I could have the final say whenever I wanted, and what good would that have done? Would I really have been any better prepared? I probably would have still gotten chocked up saying out loud that “our marriage has become unworkable.”

But at least I was wearing new shoes for my first day as a single girl.

Good

• I kind of do get paid to read books (I work for a publishing company). More bibliophile musings at Bookfessions.
• Tiny Tower.
• Jeffrey Campbell boots. Or maybe these Madwell biker boots.
• New neighbors who have a dachshund that is a clone of Ollie. They had a bit of a Parent Trap moment when they first saw each other. (The Hayley Mills version. Not the crappy Lindsay Lohan version.)
• Fairy Berries. If only I had a garden.
• Chair Socks. Because there isn’t a dining room set out there that wouldn’t benefit from a little argyle.
• This glitter teaspoon set is so ridiculous that it’s a must-have.

Bad

• These past two weeks have been the pits. The friendliest divorce ever is no longer amicable. I just want it over with.
• Ollie is having anxiety issues and peeing in the house. On his food and water bowls. This is not only bad, it is also gross.

In Between

• I couldn’t pull the trigger on the iPhone switch today. I just couldn’t. I’ll just have to wait 176 days until my upgrade discount and (hopefully) the iPhone 5.
• I had my annual gynecologist appointment this week and the doctor came back into the exam room to verify my age because she didn’t think that I could possibly be 31 years old. I told her to tell that to my ovaries.
• The catastrophic failing of my tomato pie. The recipe looks fabulous, it has rave reviews, but mine was greasy and the crust was undercooked. I had chips and salsa for dinner instead. And I would have had a margarita if it wasn’t Sunday.

When I was in Las Vegas a few weeks ago I saw a psychic for the first time ever. I was nervous and excited. Torn between believing what she said and thinking it was all coincidence and I was giving off some kind of read-me-like-a-book vibe.

I have an upbeat personality. The money situation is improving. There’s a positive male influence in my life. Big things are about to happen with my career. My husband and I are both totally over this marriage thing. I have a strong network of family and friends to support me.

Yup. That’s about right.

After almost eight years, we are done. There’s been no yelling or sobbing. (Okay, fine. I sniffled a few times.) Nothing thrown or slammed. (Although, I did dump all his folded laundry in the middle of the kitchen floor a few weeks ago.) Just a general feeling of not wanting to be married anymore and I’ve finally piped up and said that this needs to end. This lack of enthusiasm and living like roommates. Neither one of us is going to change what we want out of life, and neither one of us wants to be responsible for forcing change on the other and then being resented for it or being even more miserable when things don’t end up like imagined.

Although, I guess I am forcing this change. Because honestly, things haven’t been good for a long time. They haven’t been bad, either. They’ve just been. And I’m no longer content with that. I’d venture to say he isn’t, either.

So, the decision has been made. The paperwork has been filled out. Am I angry and upset? Of course. Am I hopeful and ready to move on? More than anything. Am I going to say mean and nasty things about how he’d rather buy a motorcycle than save for a house? Nope, but I’ll think it.

Plus, he doesn’t like Nutella. Where do you go with a relationship after your significant other drops that bomb?