Me 1, Exterminator 0

This morning, the exterminator came back to the house to check the traps.  Two had been set off, but nothing had been caught.  I, of course, showed off the trophy picture of the rat I killed with the shoe.

"That's a good-sized roof rat," the exterminator said.

Ugh.

So far, the score is 1 to 0, with me in the lead.

Gah!

Last night, The Ex came home late from a Mother's Day BBQ he had been invited to.  Somehow, I see it as rather ironic that a male-to-female transsexual claims Mother's Day.  While he was at a BBQ, I came home after visiting my mother for the weekend and did laundry.

The Ex, of course, had said that he was "doing chores" while I was gone.  I didn't notice a damn thing done, and the kitchen was messy and full of dirty dishes.  When he walked in the door, I asked him to clean up the kitchen.  He washed the dishes, but didn't do anything about the rest of the mess.

Ugh.

He ended up making a comment about just how "stressful" getting divorced is.  I just stared at him.  I couldn't say much.

I couldn't help but think that all of this stress is something that he brought upon himself.  If he didn't want the stress, then why in the heck did he ask for a divorce in the first place?

I felt like I was supposed to somehow feel sorry for him.

Don't worry, I don't.