Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

I just mailed my taxes. The refund isn't as hefty as I'd like – the mid four figures, as opposed to the low five figures of the days of a full year of alimony – but it's better than nothing.

In that filing I included what I hope is my last ever IRS Form 1040 Schedule 1, which is where you say how much alimony you paid, and to whom. It also includes my first of many Schedule A, which is where you report the mortgage interest deduction. The mortgage interest deduction does handily beat the standard deduction. Computing the mortgage interest deduction is a little bit bananas partly because of Trump, but c'est l'argent.

This is a repost, of sorts, but the timing for this is much more reasonable than last time.

ATTN: all you Seattle-area people who like to party while surrounded by dykes

What: My Alimony Liberation Party.
When: Saturday, February 5th, at 7:00 PM, i.e. 1900 hours.
Where: The Wildrose, 1021 E Pike St., Seattle, WA
Why: My last direct deposit of alimony, or officially "maintenance" in Washington state, happened last week.
Who: You, silly!
What to wear: It's the lesbian bar in Seattle. They don't care, and neither do I.

Let the tackiness commence! Don't forget to bring proof of COVID vaccination & your mask, and tip well, because I'm a regular there.

ATTN: all you Seattle-area people who like to party while surrounded by dykes

I've settled on a date & venue with the rest of the coven* for what La Fashionista has dubbed...

What: My Alimony Liberation Party.
When: Saturday, February 5th, at 7:00 PM, i.e. 2000 hours. [Edited to make it an hour earlier.]
Where: The Wildrose, 1021 E Pike St.
Why: My last direct deposit of alimony, or officially "maintenance" in Washington state, will happen on February 1st.
Who: You, silly!
What to wear: It's the lesbian bar in Seattle. They don't care, and neither do I.

Why so far in advance? Because I'm a maniac, that's why. Let the tackiness commence! Good thing Ex doesn't read this here Dreamwidth.



*The coven, if you'll recall, is La Fashionista, Tacoma Girl, and I. I did not choose that name.

Remember that piece that Ex and I wrote for KUOW and had the photo shoot for? Well, it's live now.

Yes, I'm pimping this story here because a) I'm kind of proud of it, and b) Ex needs the exposure. If you're a longtime reader of this here journal, you know the basic outline of the story.

I wished Ex a happy 25th Unniversary via text. She replied, "Et toi." No kidding: we were married 25 years ago today. I moved out of the house we shared ten years ago today, only remembering later in the day that it was our anniversary.

And in quasi-political news, I ordered something for a circumflatulation project from an eBay seller in Virginia. The last time I ordered it, and the time before that, it arrived via USPS in five days, tops. This time it's been two weeks, and USPS claims it should be delivered today. Let that be a lesson to people who need to vote or transact other time-sensitive business by mail.

The Wendling spent last night here, as usual for a Monday. He told me that he'd just found out I don't have to pay any more alimony after February 2022. He said that, basically, it was time to make a move toward independence, since his mother won't be able to afford feeding him anymore.

Where to start? On the one hand, it's wonderful that he's finally come to the belated conclusion that he should, like, be a person. On the other, it's classic Wendling to wait until circumstances force his hand. The dude follows the path of least resistance so well you'd think he's made entirely of electrons.

I gently brought up the possibility of going back to school (which would mean facing his ADHD) and working toward being a lawyer, for which I think he's temperamentally & intellectually suited. He called it a "pipe dream". He seems to have no plan other than getting more hours at the supermarket where he works. As I told him at the time, he broke my heart. I know everything sucks right now, but Christ on a pogo stick, it's not right for him to give up before he's even really started. I haven't the faintest idea how to fix that.

It occurs to me that I should talk to Ex. I haven't had a serious chat with her in ages.

I invited the Proprietress to join me at a social for a certain local organization in Fremont last night. It was all perfectly lovely until we got on the subject of divorce. This one dude started going on about how he "lawyered up so hard". I've never seen anyone leave a date as fast as the Prope did after that; she would have had to run to get out of there faster.

I asked what was up via text as soon as I could, and she told me that her ex was a raging asshole during her divorce proceedings: emotionally abusive, with a "scorched earth" lawyer. She said that if she had to either leave or shriek. It all happened fast enough that I'm not sure it would have even mattered if she'd told me before; maybe she did. File this under S for sore subject.

This is part of what I mean when I say I've been lucky.

Meanwhile, the Tickler seems to have fallen off the radar. She isn't answering texts. She travels a lot, so this wouldn't be too concerning except that a) I don't remember her having any travel plans for right around now, b) she just spent a good chunk of time on the east coast for Pride & the 4th of July, c) it's the middle of the week, and d) did I mention that her birthday was a few days ago?

I hate that she's now an hour and a half away from me, and that's via the car that I usually don't have. One mutual friend joked that given where she now lives, she might have been eaten by coyotes.

It turns out that there is a blank for pre-2019 alimony payments. It's on Schedule 1, not the 1040 itself or any of its lettered variants. I could have sworn I'd already searched the 1040 instructions for that; maybe I was looking at the wrong year. Regardless, I filled out, copied, and mailed in my return with a high degree of confidence in the legality of what I sent.

Yeah, I know I've said I'm all done with divorce stuff several times now, but this time it may actually be true. The background: Ex needed a co-signer for her mortgage so she could buy her new place, and I was the natural choice. That's how badly I wanted our old house sold and the divorce done.

Ex reminded me a week or two ago that she could finally refinance, which was always her plan, and get my name off her loan. I just signed the paperwork to quit claim, etc. I am off the hook for Ex's house. Not that she was in any danger of failing to pay for her house. In fact, that mortgage was only about $100K to start with thanks to the sale of the old house.

It occurs to me that it's time to rename my "nibs" tag to "ex", because it's been a long time since she was Her Nibs in any sense.

From the Dept. of Delayed Divorce, Ex and I finally got around to splitting up the cell phone bill. All three of us used to be on one bill, which Ex (!) was paying. Now, more reasonably, the kiddo & I go on one and she's off on her own. I forgot that we were paying for two tablets that we don't use. Oy. They get cancelled tomorrow.

And on a related note, if you remember almost exactly a year ago, I agreed to have m'boy at my place on weekdays and send him to Ex on the weekends. That hasn't been optimal for quite a while - since July, says the Wendling - because he now works much closer to Ex's place than mine. And once he restarts school, getting there is also easier from her place than mine. So, starting next month, my son will be with my ex on days when he's working, which are usually but not always weekdays, and with me the rest of the time. I've warned him that he may hear lesbian sex if he's here on the weekends, and gotten the predictable cringe from him. Just kidding: I would subject neither him nor a date to that if I could help it. But hey, if they were copacetic, you're reading the words of someone who's had sex in a room full of third parties. A lot of third parties.

I'm not sure whether I'd rather have him here on weekends or weeknights. On the one hand, if he's here less, that's less stressful on me, and he isn't commuting his life away. On the other hand, Ex isn't that good at launching m'boy when he needs to be launched. Given the lack of social action (apart from m'boy) in my apartment lately, that aspect is probably a wash. I note that Brown Eyes doesn't seem to mind driving anywhere anytime, and sleepovers at my lake place are impractical for the Tickler.

---

While we three were driving around today, m'boy found a months-old voice mail from Exdad wishing him happy birthday. Exdad, if you'll recall, has been dead for about six weeks. Poor Ex started crying as she drove. She'd mentioned earlier that losing him had been hard, messing with her daily life. I couldn't help reminding her that she used to tell me to, in essence, just get over my own father's death because it was so long ago.

"That sounds like something my mother would say," she said. Yup, it sure is. That's usually not a good sign, and Ex knows it. She points out that she's no longer the person I was married to, for better and for worse, and my criticism of her past self is a trifle unfair. Yeah, I guess it is, but I can now say that I'm not mad at her for it anymore. She acquired some empathy for me in about the worst way she could have.