He's been out of town for a couple days, Copenhagen I think. Which has been really good because it's easier to breathe and think straight when he's not so close.
But he came back. He hasn't called this week, but has sent a couple of text messages about when he was going to be back so we could talk – which just tells me all over again that he's not taking this, or me, seriously. He's been acting like we've had an argument about him finishing the milk and putting the empty carton back in the fridge or something. Which also pisses me off, btw. I guess his office didn't give him the message about his stuff turning up there.
Anyway, so he came back late last night and texted me from the airport to ask if I had dinner waiting or should he pick up take out or something.
And I did something a little mean. I'm not proud, but sometimes you have to just wrench a tiny bit of power back and I texted back to say there was roast waiting (his family is English like eight generations ago and he plays on liking roast stuff and tea because he thinks it makes him sound smart). Oh, and I didn't mention that the locks were changed again.
So he gets to the apartment and of course I couldn't change the main door key so he gets in there but that's as far as he gets. I was sitting watching TV and I heard his key rattle, trying to get in the lock. And he tried it again, harder, I could literally hear him getting mad through the key. Then he knocks on the door. And again.
The lights and the TV were on so he could tell through the door that I was home, so he starts yelling for me.
And I let him.