14 January 1999

Speaking of irritation. It’s wearing on me. Reba is traumatized by the assault on 3 January, I’m traumatized by all the shit with Mike, neither of us is at our best when traumatized, and on top of that her pain meds are scrambling her brains. Needless to say, we’re grating on one another’s nerves.

Talked to the Navy judge advocate general (JAG) officer and found out some interesting stuff. Apparently, conviction for a felony crime is grounds for divorce in Tennessee. Unfortunately, JAG doesn’t do family-court stuff, including divorce. So I’ll have to wait until I’ve got a decent job and, of course, until Mike’s convicted.

I’ve been making lists of what I want from the house with Mike and what I don’t want. Basically I want my stuff and Sean’s stuff. They can burn down Mike’s stuff for all I care. Once ours is not there anymore. I’ve also been apartment-hunting. I think I want to go with Flag Manor in Millington. Their move-in costs are not insane.

Storm Bear, one of my internet friends (no really, just a friend — he’s happily married and monogamous and I’m not even interested), called today but I wasn’t around. I’ll have to call him back.