Behind Enemy Lines

Shortly after I separated from my ex-husband I got a lawyer and filed for a divorce.  Our 27 plus years of marriage were now written out on paper; sectioned, claused and neatly paragraphed.  Then they were scrutinized, itemized, notarized, and anything but finalized.  There were Interrogatories to be filled out by each of us, two inches thick.  I don't know who did more fighting, the lawyers or us.  But at least we could fight for free.  They charged $250 an hour.  Like mighty Generals, our lawyers led us into battle, barking out 'Orders' from their mahogany desks in memos, letters, faxes, and phone calls.  My husband and I engaged in fierce combat and espionage behind enemy lines.  He took my Chevy Blazer (which had already been paid off) right out of my apartment parking lot, and left me the Chevy Beretta (which still had three years left to be paid on the loan).  I took what money I felt I was entitled to out of our joint bank account, before he thought of doing it.  Then he had all of our assets frozen, and I called a Realtor and put our house up for sale.  He changed the message on our answering machine. I put in a Change of Address and had all our mail delivered to my apartment.  He took all of the things that he knew I wanted, and hid them in a storage facility.  I snuck into the house, and cut off the pant legs of his brand new suit and then hung it back up in the closet. 
He threatened to give my Stray Sock Basket to his mother.  There was no end to the ingenious ways we could get even with each other.  And the lawyers sat back, sending out monthly, itemized bills. We soon realized that if this kept up, we wouldn't have any money left to fight over.  So we agreed to agree.  Fourteen months after I filed, we were finally...divorced.  (cont’ tomorrow)