Hell hath no fury

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

or as i like to say….hell has no fury like a woman’s corns!

A few years ago my then husband told me the marriage was over, there was no one else. The love had died. Before he got too old he wanted a new start and new life and hoped to find love again. I agreed that a loveless marriage was not what either of us needed or indeed wanted and consented to the divorce. He was right, we were going nowhere, and we both had good careers with no children holding us back. We were more like house mates than a couple. We passed each other in the morning on our way to the bathroom and met each other at night coming home both too tired to start a conversation let alone love making. The marriage had grown stale and tired a bit like both of us.

I moved out into a rented apartment while the house went on the market. When he couldn’t be there for potential viewings I would go to show the buyers about.  Eventually we got an offer of the asking price and started the proceedings to sell the house and finalize the divorce settlement. Everything was going as planned. I looked forward to the day the decree absolute was in my hands and half the assets from the marriage were mine. A new life a new beginning a new me.

But, a few days before the house completion my solicitor informed me the house had been taken off the market.  Furious I called my soon to be ex asking why. He decided to stay in the house and would buy me out of my share in due course. He just had to apply for a re mortgage to cover my half of the house. Why would a single man need such a big house? The house we had shared? A house full of memories? The big house we had planned to build a family in?

After a very heated argument it all came out. He didn’t want to start a new life and find love again. He had already found it. He had found it a year before he told me our marriage was over. He had been having an affair with another woman, who had decided the house would be perfect for them to start a new life in. Yes, my house. The house I had picked to start my family in. The house I had cleaned and decorated and made a home. She was taking it all away from me.

So I waited, I plotted and planned. I didn’t have to wait very long as it turns out. My ex called me to inform me that the re mortgage had been approved and I should have my half share within a two weeks, and as it had been such a stressful time he was going away for a few weeks with his new partner. I sat looking at the phone after he had hung up. How did I feel? The end of a chapter of my life that another woman had stolen from me? The start of a new story? Nah I felt pure rage. Absolute sheer anger. How dare they both swan off on a two week all-inclusive holiday sunning their perfect tanned bodies while I had to show people round my home. While I had to live in a shitty rented flat. No mate you don’t get off that easy.

The day before my ex was due to return from his new start holiday I went to my old house. I let myself in using my old key I didn’t think to give back after the viewings had finished. Armed with a pint of milk and a loaf of bread, in case I was seen I could say I was making sure they came home to a decent cuppa. And people would duly think what a decent ex-wife I was…little did they know.

I got to work. I climbed into the loft. Climbed over the water tank and lifted off the top. I perched my bum over the lip and continued to piss in it for what seemed like forever. I hadn’t had a wee all day and made sure I had drunk plenty. Carefully climbing down I grabbed the black bin bag I had dragged up opened the bag and slid the contents carefully into the water. The dead magpie in the water tank wasn’t part of the original idea but when I saw it squished and mangled by the side of the road that morning I knew that would be the cherry on the top. Give it a few weeks with the sun beating down that dead bird could spawn a lovely little stomach infection to anyone drinking or bathing in the tap water.

Climbing out of the loft I made sure I had not disturbed anything and went into the bedroom for my final piece de resistance. A loose floor board under my dressing table was lifted. I had bugged my ex for years to fix it but boy was a glad he didn’t. I lifted the floor board out and carefully opened the box of 20 live baby mice I had purchased from the pet shop that morning. Okay maybe it was cruel as there was no food source for them and most would probably die there, under my old dressing table but if two survived and if those two were both a male and female who knows how many uninvited squatters the happy couple would find in a few weeks?

I left the house as I found it, no one saw me. I was scot free. The day after my share of the house went into the bank. I started my new chapter, new life, new friends, new love maybe?

I never did hear anything from my ex about the dead bird and the mice. But when I look back on the time I always chuckle about the new woman and her 200 furry friends that come to stay.

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