Steve and I have been divorced 25 years and he still donates to the charity…hush money so he doesn’t have to live with me any longer. It’s hard to be neat and live my lifestyle. That, and he’s a genuinely nice guy.
Two years ago, I awoke to a text from him that read in part, “Hey – I was over at your web site and you said nice things about me, so I’m sending a thousand dollars next week.” I burst into tears because my computer was in agonal death and I had no idea how I would be able to afford a new one.
Back in the beginning when I was scraping up road kill while he was out at work, I had to store the ‘food’ in the freezer on top of the fridge. Needless to say, having various and sundry dead things looking back at him when he threw open the freezer door was a little distressing, so shortly afterwards, he bought me my very own freezer: an old fashioned ice cream freezer with all the individual compartments.
Our local DNR brought me a fawn that had been accidentally bush hogged. Not only was he a gory mess, but I had to fold his legs in to jam him into one of the compartments. Free food. No pansy’s in this line of work, ‘no’siree, Bob’. (I got that phrase from my Grandmother, but never found out who Bob was)
One day when we had a party, (Steve was very social and loved to have garden parties), a guest who owned a restaurant was admiring said freezer. “Uh-oh”, I’m thinking and before I could wade through the crowd to intervene, he opened the very compartment that held the folded up dead fawn, the poor frozen thing staring up from it’s icy depths previously reserved for Butter Pecan ice cream. I thought the poor man was going to have a heart attack… I don’t remember seeing him at any future parties.