Finally home. And finally awake.

I got off the plane after a day and a half in cars, planes, and airports, and went almost directly to bed, where I stayed for 15 hours. You could say I was worn out.

I woke up in the middle of a dream. 

There was a raffle, the small-town sort where they call numbers and people "win" prizes of dubious quality. They called my number last, and my unironically raffish prize was pressed into my hands over my objections: a wedding dress, a size-eighteen mass of white satin and gathered seams. 

I protested. No! No! I didn't want to get married! I wanted to get divorced! 

This seemed like a good time to wake up, heavens to mercies.

I don't know why the dress size mattered. Perhaps if I hadn't ripped myself from somnolence, I would have started shouting in my dream that it wouldn't fit.

It will be nice to be able to say that this process is over. It has seemed very long. I have a lot of lawyer friends, and they tend to agree: you spend so much time thinking about leaving and putting it off, by the time you finally make the decision to go, the year-long wait to file the paperwork seems far too long. That said, it has taken a year to get everything in place to deal with custody and assets, so perhaps a year-long wait isn't such a bad thing. 

You don't really need a divorce unless you want to get married again, but I want some finality to this. I want a piece of paper that says it is over. I want a judge to stamp my file and put it in storage. It is further and further in the past every day; I am settling into a contented life with a smart and nice guy who loves me, and "normal" is within striking distance. 

I will eventually lock a few of the older posts and attempt to turn this into a regular blog instead of a blog about some of the more  sucky things that have happened over the past ten years. Finality, you know.