I had almost forgotten about this loop in my brain. A cd with only one track: play, repeat, play, repeat. Anxiety in the cul de sac, to the pit of my stomach with no place else to go.
All I wanted was to get a free online copy of my credit report, but somewhere admidst the social security numbers and secret questions, I managed to pull my ex-husband's report. I couldn't help but notice that he refinanced his joint mortgage of $418,000 in October. Google maps showed his homestead on a creek, on an island near Savannah with his own dock. There were no satellite images of his wife sunning herself, but when I dialed the number on the report, hoping to hear her voice, I discovered it was only his cell phone. If they didn't live 6 hours and 31 minutes away, I would be driving by their house at this very minute.
I'm obsessing. And nauseous. I don't know if I'm more jealous of his $15,000 jetski, or the fact that he found love. Oh, wait a minute: IT DOESN'T MATTER! Stop, brain. Please, please stop.