Every time I think things can’t get worse, the universe drops another bomb on my life.
Last week, I was cleaning up some of his things that were laying around in the living room, spare room (aka he Pink Room) and dining room. I was picking up a pair of his jeans to go through the pockets before doing laundry. Why I was even bothering to do his laundry, I don’t know, but I wanted to find his wallet or money clip and keep all his vital things in one spot. Imagine my surprise when I reached into his pocket to grab the clip and found a lighter as well. Smoking cigarettes has been a HUGE problem between us. He’d quit for a while due to the cost, then it was sporadic after that, but started back up in earnest earlier this year because of stress. When I found out, I was beyond angry with him. We had been working on being honest when something was bothering us, and if he was stressed about anything, I wanted to help him in any way possible. Lying about it was something I stressed was a deal breaker for me. I watched a grandmother deal with cancer up close, I’ve watched several others from a distance, and I didn’t want to watch it happen to him. Plus, we were living paycheck to paycheck, and smoking anything is an expensive habit.
And there I am, pants in one hand, and a lighter in the other, and I’m pissed. I’m remembering a few months back, and in an almost identical scenario, I had picked up his laundry and a lighter fell out of his pants. I don’t remember what his excuse was at that point, but it was plausible, and the lighter was nearly empty and unusable, so I let it go.
Continuing to clean, I go through a backpack that he uses when he walks to the grocery store, and it’s empty. I find his lunch bag and unzip it to make sure nothing in there is going to be rotting in there, and find two packs of cigarettes. Another lighter. And some weed and a small pipe. I don’t care about pot, I think it’s the most ridiculously stupid thing to be concerned about when I believe it’s far less dangerous than alcohol. However, I’m angry because he’s essentially burning money we don’t have. I haven’t seen a doctor or even gotten a god damned haircut in a year because because of the cost, the car is making funny noises and goes through about a quart of steering fluid a week, and he’s blowing money we can’t afford on pot and cigarettes. On top of that, I have no idea where he’s even getting the money for them, because there doesn’t seem to be anything odd with bank deposits or debit transactions. Secret bank account? Hidden credit card? I only found one debit card, so I don’t know. What I do know is that he’s not good at hiding his tracks, so I think it’s only a matter of time before I find out.
Later, I’m chatting with someone I sort of know online about everything that happened because she’s dealing with a similar situation, and she tells me “oh yeah, I unfriended him a few months back because he was being a bit flirty while trying to seem sympathetic”.
Is there anyone out there who my husband hasn’t tried to get nasty with?
The worst is that I know I’ll need some document or file that he has saved and I’m going to be forced to go through his computer at some point, and that’s going to be a challenge. It’s Pandora’s box, just waiting to be opened and unleash its contents into my lap. In my imagination, that laptop is less a box waiting to be opened like the climax of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and more like a cat waiting to puke in my shoe so I get a foot full of vomit when I put it on the next day. I’ll find something that I don’t want to see, or read something, or he’ll get an email from a Craigslist ad he posted, or something equally stomach-churning. It won’t kill me, but by the end of the clean up, I’ll wish the Ark had.