Filed for 'Final Judgement' in my divorce today (see Summary Dissolution of Marriage). The six-month waiting period was actually up on 2 November, but that didn't seem like a good day to go to the county courthouse.

Parked the truck at 1:00 PM, entered the courthouse and passed through the metal detector, and negotiated the rat maze to the Family Law section. I didn't have to wait line! I had found a PDF of the form online and filled in my name etc. before going downtown. The clerk checked off several areas that needed more information, said three copies were required, and inflected it all like I was a real moron. I had forgotten about the triplicate requirement. One of those blank areas was the address of the courthouse, which they had filled in with a stamp on all previous documents; the other two were address boxes for my ex and I, which were located below the "to be filled in by court personnel only" line. Sheesh! She also told me I had to supply two stamped envelopes for them to mail the judegments in. There was nothing about envelopes anywhere in the printed instructions for filing the form, and they were not at all apologetic about that oversight. It is amazing how they simply do not care about making one waste time jumping through hoops.

I resolved not to get tense about the snag. I drove surface streets to Kinko's a few miles away, made my copies, begged for a stapler - they had staples at all of the little convenience stands, but no staplers. I bought a box of envelopes and two postage stamps (from a machine), and filled in the address information on the envelopes and affixed the stamps. I was heading for the door when I had an intense image of the court clerk telling me "I said 'stamped envelopes', not 'self-addressed stamped envelopes'!" I bought two more stamps and put them and two blank envelopes into my folder of divorce documents as well, and headed back to the courthouse.

I parked on the street about 40 feet from my previous spot, went through the security station again, and waited in line behind a few people for the 'start here' clerk. She took my papers and said "You're just dropping these off. Thank You." I asked about the small fee the instructions had mentioned (separate from the original filing fee) and she said there was none. I had specifically dug out my checkbook and taken it with me (I pay bills online, the courthouse doesn't like cash and won't take ATM cards). So I guess the lack of fee and the requirement for stamped envelopes balances out, somewhat. Total time on this task: 1.25 hours. I should get the final papers in about 4 weeks.

I didn't exactly feel relief or anything at having filed the paperwork, but I felt an urge for some small celebratory act , if only for symbolic purposes, some drive to ingest something of the world that would make me feel different for at least a little while. I won't have a drink, as eight months without feels good already. Haven't smoked pot in 15 years, and the couple of recent opportunities that arose let me know that I will continue that trend. Sweets and food indulgences offer no real pleasure anymore, since staying only 10% overwieght is hard enough. So I bought some cheap cigarillos and smoked one outside while reading a few pages of "The Magic Mountain" and petting TwoSocks, the formerly feral feline that lives in the backyard.

Eventually my anger will fade, they tell me. That's about the only thing I feel anymore, and that only a couple of times a day. The rest of the time is flat and grey and featureless. I have a real hard time even imagining that anything will ever seem worth doing, worth striving for, worth even hoping. I'm handling what few responsibilities I have, but that's just to avoid causing trouble for others. No pain, but no pleasure. A life increasingly defined by what I don't do.