Breaking up, as Neil Sedaka sang, is hard to do.
No friggin' shit.
I once was so desperate to get out of a relationship with someone that I had our apartment fumigated, and paid the contractors to tell my girlfriend (and by "girlfriend" I mean "the person who made me pray daily for the sweet release death would someday bring") that they'd accidentally trapped me inside.
I was hoping for an easy out... but it turned out she was hoping for the same, so in the long run, we all won. The contractors got the bid, and an extra $20 from me; she got her freedom, and my favorite windbreaker (she always wore it, and so after getting the news of my, er, fumigation, she climbed into her Yugo and drove off into the sunset in my one and only "Three's a Crowd" commemorative windbreaker) and I got... well, a bug-free apartment... and a fresh start to make the same mistakes all over again.
I eventually got lucky, of course... unbelievably lucky... but man alive! This woulda' been great back in the day....
God I miss that windbreaker.
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