And The Walls Come Tumbling Down

Post drought is nothing new to my blog, and there's usually nothing weighty to cause my scarcity. However, this time it's probably one of the weightiest matters to come down on me in my life.

Mrs. Farrago and I are splitting up. Divorcing. Kaput.

It's something that's been coming at us for a while, and there's plenty of blame to go around. Well, to the two of us, anyway. And Schprock. I don't know for what exactly, but I hold him partly responsible.* I never let on to our problems here in my blog for a couple of reasons. Number one, Mrs. Farrago reads it -- or at least she used to -- and I'm likely to highlight her flaws and accentuate my virtues (what, like I'm gonna tell you what a jackass I am?!); number two, DENIAL.

Needless to say, writing has not been in the forefront of my thoughts of late.

We're keeping it amicable. There are still a lot of tears every day, a lot of emotional pain for me over the reality that love faded and we drifted, but we're trying to be civil toward each other and make this split as painless as it can be.

I'm sure this will all be fodder for my blog in the future, after the papers have been signed and the judge has approved it and the lawyer's been paid and the ex-Mrs. Farrago can't kick me out of anywhere, but for now it's just the first public announcement that this union is dissolving.

I wish it wasn't so, but I spent all my best wishes to find her. I should have kept a few in reserve for this moment.



*Of course, I'm kidding. Schprock had nothing to do with the breakup...just the fathering of her child.... and the genital warts.**


**Again, I'm kidding. He gave the genital warts to ME.***