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I Need a Big Rubber Mallet

Well, the dance has begun. After bullying me for my income information and insisting that I had until February 15th and no later to get it to him, my ex has yet to get his to me.

This worries me mostly because my income information shows that I made about $4k less this year than we thought I would, which means that he owes me a ton of back support. He's going to pitch a FIT. Last year it took nearly two weeks to come to an agreement because every time I went to the court to run the support numbers, they took exception to some little niggledy point and wanted them re-run. This year, because of the decrease in income, it's going to be worse.

Last night as the Pirate and I talked about it, I could feel my chest tightening and the beginnings of a panic attack coming on. I just wanted to cry. He keeps pointing out that it's okay. My ex can't hurt us. We're in a good position, and he'd be an idiot to try. Logically I know that, but still...

When I get like that, I wish someone would just hit me on the head with a big rubber mallet. That's prolly what it would take to stop that line of thought dead in its tracks.

The second best thing was going to CS last night and seeing recursive's beautiful new motorcycle (it's delicious!), talking to kr8vkat about her upcoming trip (and a Costco-sized THANKS for the chiropractor recommendation!) and talking wordweaverlynn into coming to Petaluma on the 9th to hear me read and to put herself forward for reading too.

By the time the Pirate and I got home last night, I was feeling great. Okay. Maybe I don't need a rubber mallet. Maybe I just need to see my friends more.