MADNESS!

It was a safe bet to say that all hopes of keeping John's and my break up respectable, civil and cordial went out the window on Sunday afternoon.  What should have been a quiet afternoon with the two of us keeping a respectable distance from one another turned into straight up madness.  And it all started with this simple question.  

"Do you need any help with packing your things?" 

It had been agreed that I would set about packing my things and making preparations to move out of the condo.  While it sounds simple writing it here, you have to understand that I was now expected to find a place to live--all while having no money and no job!  While the situation looked as if it couldn't possibly get any worse, here we were, in the guest bedroom about to push the envelope between rational thinking and downright anger.  

After looking at John for a split second (although, to me, it felt like longer), I finally blurted out, "Where do you expect me to go right now?  And how do you expect me to get there?"  It was those two questions that echoed throughout our conversation while we sat there, trying to once again, be respectful.  

So much for being civil.  

While at no time did we ever raise our voices beyond our normal tone, here we were arguing about--looking back at it now, nothing.  But John wasn't having it.  Against my pleading with him, he made a move that would later prove a ridiculous one and even now as I sit here recalling the incident, I still can't believe he was as daring as he was.  

He threatened to call the police.  

"What are you going to call the police for?"  I asked.  "What do you really expect for them to do?  You're not being threatened.  I haven't assaulted you.  In fact, we're not even yelling at each other, "  I informed him.  "So what do you really expect to happen by calling them?"  

My words fell upon John's deaf ears because he still held his cell phone in hand and was punching the digits.  

I resigned to the fact that our Sunday afternoon quarrel was now about to take an even more dramatic turn now that San Diego's finest was about to intervene.  Whereas normally, I probably would've panicked at the mere thought of the police coming out to our house, I calmly sat on the stairs and listened while John, now downstairs in his office, explained to the dispatcher why we needed police assistance.  So on the stairs I sat until finally, I got up, marched outside, lit a Newport and tried to figure out what to do next.   

Then suddenly, I had an idea!

Buzzing from the nicotine and menthol, I strolled back into the house and into John's office.  He was still on the phone with the dispatcher--only now, he was giving her a play-by-play of my actions.  I held out my hand and asked to speak to her directly.  Hesitant at first, John finally handed me his cell phone and in the most pleasant tone that I could muster, I spoke to the lady who now knew more about us than I'm sure her job required.  

Twenty minutes after John had originally placed the call, the police showed up.  

To be continued...