Death and Swim Shorts

Hmmm....

Well, the dream is almost a reality.

You know all these years that I have been praying for Jack to drop dead?

Well he's dropping.

What do you do, think, or say when you get news that your twice ex-husband who was the biggest dirt bag, alcoholic, abusive, mullet sporting, white trash love of your life informs you that he may be kicking the eternal bucket?

I don't know either.

Here's the story (short version)

He called last night to let me know I may not be receiving child support for a while.

Like that has EVER been a concern of his before.

He was sick with pneumonia and has been in the hospital for over two weeks.

They had already stabbed a hole through his back to drain the fluid in his lungs but he's still not doing well so tomorrow they crack his ribs open and scrape him out.

I swear there have been nights when I have dreamed of things like this and worse.

I dreamed of the day he would fall over in a drunken stupor and whack his head open.

In my Jack death fantasy, I would take him to the hospital and the doctor would look at me and say "I'm sorry Mrs SwaffordX2, theres nothing more we can do" I would whimper a little bit and then go home and repaint the kitchen.

Since Jack has moved to Texas he's not such a thorn in my side

I can deal with the phone calls, even the ones that really piss me off, because I can just hang up and it's over.

But dead?

Never mind, I'm not even going to think about this any more because he's too much of an

A-Hole to die

I would hate to let my emotions on Jack Swafford go soft and then have him live.

Speaking of dying, one of the frogs died yesterday and I thought Mike was going to hold a service on the deck.

He was pretty torn up about it and worried about the other frogs that weren't dead, and would they die.

I haven't checked yet if there were any more frog fatalities during the night, but I will let you know after Mike does morning head count.

We took Wyatt swimming last night.

He has been begging to go for weeks, so last night we went.

The only problem was, we got to town and Wyatt realized he forgot his swim shorts.

So, we got ice cream and came home.

I was a very long ride home, with all the blubbering from the backseat about how unfair life was.

How that was all he ever wanted was to swim, and couldn't we just understand he had a lot on his mind and that sometimes people forget, and couldn't we just wheel into K-Mart and buy some new shorts?

Whatever, through tears and rainbow sherbet we somehow survived the ride home, I gave him a watercolor set from Grandma and life was worth living again.

Amazing how fast we can bounce back from tragedy.

I have to go wash George.