Last night my marriage wasn’t legal in my own home. But today it is. I jumped for joy as I cleaned the pet bowls, fed the pets, cleaned out the kitty litter, fed the bird, took the dog for a walk, had my own breakfast. I whistled in the shower, I walked to the car with a light step, I put the top down and rode to work al fresco, and I made a stop at the Starbucks and got my infrequent indulgence, a venti white chocolate mocha for $5.04. Why not splurge for once?
Oh, what a beautiful morning. I could now finally do what I wanted to do, what I’ve been wanting for months and months. Ever since I got back home and realized … with dread … my marriage wasn’t legal in my home state. But now it was, and now I could do exactly as I pleased.
I called Jack’s office and asked to speak with him. He’d be pleased, too, no doubt … and finally it could happen. Finally I could be free to do what I wanted the most. Finally I could be free, period.
“Jack,” I said when he came to the phone, “I’d like to file for divorce. Can we do that now? I don’t want to wait a single day.”
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