The High Road is Covered in Goose Poop

It’s been 5 months since I’ve documented my life. I’m trying to do this without throwing people under the bus, pointing fingers, cause in the end – it doesn’t matter. I am now divorced. Pointing fingers will not change that, so I take the high road and wish the best for my (oh, good God – now SECOND) ex-wife.

So I’m living alone. Me and a cat. Bernie. I’ve never been a cat person, but Bernie is OK. There are times when its nice to just have another heartbeat under the roof.

I’m not looking for as pitty party. It is what it is. I feel we did what we could. We spend thousands on counseling. We knew what to do, but thanks to our childhoods, our experiences, we are wired the way we are, and we couldn’t change. As a teacher, I find this fact hard to believe. I believe in constant improvement. In the end, I guess a leopard can’t change it’s spots, and a Zebra can’t change it’s stripes. At that pint you either accept what you have (even if it’s not exactly what you want) or you move on.

Geese are pretty, but the crap on everything. It’s one thing thing to have a robin poop on your car. Its a whole other story when its a goose.

Toilet paper rolls last for MONTHS when there are no women in the house.

It’s easier to change the littler box daily for a few minutes, then to do it once a week.

I am developing an unhealthy fear of the unknown. I’m worried I will blow my 50’s worrying about my 70’s.

The choices I’ve made my life have got me to where I am. I can’t change the past. I can only do the best with what is left.

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