It started with dog food. Sometimes little things can open your eyes and make you see the big things in your life. I saw it for the first time – my husband was a big fat slob.
I had accidentally left a bag of dog biscuits in his room – I say his room, it used to be our living room. He and his big TV fill the room. He lies on cushions and eats and watches TV and eats and drinks and eats.
Yes, he had eaten the dog biscuits. At first I thought, oh, this is good, dog food is cheaper than human food, I could save a bit of money for myself.
I've got a full-time job and most of what I earn is spent on him – his food, his drink, his magazines, his toys – the rest is nearly enough for me and the dog. I had a second full-time job – looking after him, buying and fetching him food and drink and whatever – just little time for me and the dog.
At second I realised what a big fat slob he was. Thirdly I decided to get him out of my life – I needed more time (and money) for me and the dog.
How? He never left the apartment. He weighed over two hundred kilo or maybe over 300. I could not lift him – I could not roll him out. I could have left him in the apartment, but no, that would have been murder – after some times (weeks or months) he would have died of hunger. No, that was not for me.
But wrong! He did leave the apartment once a year. Every summer I take a four week vacation and it was never a holiday. I took him to his mother's place and looked after him and his mother for four weeks. She did not need looking after – she was a fat lazy cow – were my eyes opened wide.
But this was my chance, my last chance, next year it would have taken a crane to get him out of the apartment.
I planned it. But why did I put the dog in the garden shed next door instead of the dog hotel?
It took an hour to get the slob to the car and another half an hour to discover that he could not get into the passenger seat. I removed the back seats, opened the hatchback and pushed him in. He complained. I told him how happy he was to be going to stay with his mother – this was true. But he still complained. I made him comfortable with cushions and told him his next journey would be better – a longer car with curtains in the windows – he did not understand that.
You're late! My poor son has had to wait before being back with his dear mother.
I hated her and she hated me, but I said sweetly that I had driven very slowly to keep her son comfortable. This was partly true – I had driven slowly with a heavy load, I did not want to damage the car.
I drove back to the apartment to get some of his things for the four week stay. I took everything that was his. All his cushions, his food, his drink, his magazines, his very expensive mobile phone, his clothing, his toys, his huge big TV, everything to keep him happy.
He had been sitting on her sofa – the legs had broken off. I said sweetly that I could fix it. I could see her mind working – it was my fault, I knew how to fix it and I would fix it. None of this was true.
It took two hours to make him happy. He lay on his cushions in a nice room – was he happy to be with his mother – and watched TV, his TV with a satellite dish that I had fixed up for him. All I got was a servant's room in the attic with a tiny window. The nice rooms were reserved for guests.
No, nothing was too much trouble to make him comfortable – I did my best – not that he thanked me and she certainly not. She gave a long written list of things to clean and fix in the house, her house. Was I pleased – she could read it after I had gone. She had lots of money and now she was going to have to spend it.
Oh, I've forgotten to bring a bag of his favourite biscuits.
Oh, that is disgraceful. You must get them at once. My poor son!
Oh, it'll take less than half an hour to get them. Bye, bye!
I drove back to the apartment and took the dog for a long walk. I sat on the floor of the empty living room and opened a bottle of good red wine that I had bought just for me.
I planned it. I had closed my bank account which killed all the payments for his TV, the premium satellite channels, the expensive mobile telephone, all the magazine subscriptions and so on. I redirected his mail to his mother's place and changed my mobile phone number.
Dog! Things are going to be different from now on.
Dogs can't smile, but I'm sure that he would have done if he could.
Ding! Dong! Next morning! It was Joe and I was lying on the floor, fully clothed, with an empty bottle and the dog.
I've got some good friends in the office where I work. Joe is a happily married man with lots of kids – he was going to help me today with project living room.
We cleaned it, we painted it and put furniture in it. Now I could get into the bedroom without climbing.
It took all day. I explained how my life would be different, I thanked him for helping and gave him a present for his wife and children.
I don't know why I'm crying. Really not. I don't understand. I always thought that you were happily married. You thought that I was happily married.
I'm not married – no kids. She left me years ago, she was cruel to me.
I put my arms around him and he said:
Promise you won't hit me!
It was my time to cry.