Monday, June 12, 2017

In Which Arthur Was Really Pissed

The other day I texted Kris to ask whether she would be interested in any of the furniture that I was moving out. There are several pieces that were pretty cool while we were married, but that I use only for accumulating piles of stuff, and my life would be better with an empty space where they once were, and eventually something more appropriate.
She was eager. The Chinese cabinet, the rice chest, the kitchen table and chairs, and above all the vintage chaise lounge were of interest.
In a world ruled by economically rational self-interest I would consign these items and be done with it. Perhaps I still shall, for I owe Kris nothing. But I knew that she valued them once and I felt better making the offer. We're never entirely rational.
Kris accepted gratefully, and asked if she could come over to take measurements. When she arrived, I was exercising Arthur outside on his leash. She spoke, and Arthur hissed. He stared at her, growled, and then ran for the door. I let him in, removed his leash, and then discussed the furniture with Kris. Arthur was still angry. After all the measurements were taken, we sat in the kitchen and discussed when to pick up the items. Arthur went in the corner, raised his tail, and pissed.
I could not be angry at him; his emotions were sincere.
Kris and I went to get a pizza at Proletariat as we had so many times before. While our conversation reminded me why we had been friends, it also reminded me that our conversations ultimately became boring. She complains, and expresses joy very little. She paid for the pizza, which was only fair considering the furniture, and she had brought over some cake for me to enjoy, and she offered to clean the carpet ( retrospect, she wants the carpet and that she shall never have...) but ultimately it was a conversation that was pretty much nothing.
Kris had her own reasons for going her own way, and this conversation confirmed what I had decided after dancing on the matter: I don't want her back. She's not very interesting.
The furniture will soon be gone and that will leave room from potential.
After she left, I took some recycling out and Arthur made a sprint for the door. He walked into the front yard and took a long, long piss. When he was done, I took him inside and we agreed it was better now.

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