The car is in her name. Our phone plans are separated. Over half of my stuff is packed and ready to be put into storage.

She has flaked out on taking my stuff to California behind me, so I have found a cheaper and more reliable way. She wanted me to either pay for her return ticket (on a trip not only meant to bring out my stuff, but to visit with the friend that she is in love with… the love that started all of this) or to give her a definite “deadline” on when I would have an apartment. From my point of view these requests were entirely unreasonable, especially so late. So, like I said, I found a better way. Rely on the professionals, right?

Now, she’s started to make noises about the dog, and so I’ve been looking more seriously at finding him a permanent home. I’m still divided on the matter, at least while sober. For now, Lauren has agreed to take care of him, and find him a place if/when she (the soon-to-be-ex) moves out of the house before I find an apartment. Today, she did what I feel was a 180, and claimed that he was her dog, too. She said that she would take care of him as long as she was still living at the house. The lifestyle she’s chosen is purposefully irresponsible. How can I trust her to take care of the dog?

At the same time, I feel selfish for not knowing if I want the dog with me in California. Yeah, where I’m going is very dog friendly, but it would be nice not to be breathing dog hair. It would be nice not to have to worry about feeding him, getting him his shots, worrying about having to be home. This is my selfish side coming out, combined with a bit of bitterness – the idea of getting a pet was entirely hers. Then again, so was buying the house.

I’m amazing myself at the amount of baggage I’ve got to take with me. But I’m trying to sever it. I’m trying to leave it behind and look forward to all of the awesomeness that awaits me on the west coast.

Five out of seven knots on my side are untied. Apparently, two on her side are waiting for me, and then she’s got one left.

I’m trying.