Packing and cleaning up this house has been nothing short of a pain in the ass. It's really nice that the fucking drunk of an ex-husband of mine got to pack his few pairs of shorts and walk out, leaving me to clean up the shit around here. To add insult to injury, he was a carpenter ... only was a firm believer in screwing everything down to everything else with power tools that could build Rome in an hour. Just to give you an idea ... the table in my dog room ... I grab my screw gun thinking, "No problem ..." Press the button and nothing happens except a sound like it's dying. Awesome. There's 400 screws I need to unscrew by hand. "Fine, I'll work on taking the work table in the garage apart." Wrong. You can't even see the heads of those screws because they are sunk in 3 feet deep. When I finally do unbury one to see what the hell he used, it's a bit, of course, that I don't even fucking own!
Tell you what ... Typhoon Mary might take this entire fucking house out, but the table in the dog room, and the work table and shelves in the garage will still be here for you to rebuild the house with.
So ... I'll hire someone to take this shit apart. I'm not dealing with it. But I will resist the urge to use an axe, because I will use all of this lumber in my new house to build things the way I want them. And it will be all put together the way a chick would do it, and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it, Ed!
So fuck you! I win!