If I knew what I know now, I would have shot him when I first saw him

After failing to find any way to conj ole, reason, sweet talk, or convince my husband we were too old to get a divorce, my plan became evident to me. I would just go on down there to Alabama and make him see reason.  But just in case he didn't see reason, or my side of it, I scheduled a mover to show up at the house in Alabama on Friday before Memorial Day Weekend.  I would travel down on Thursday, unannounced, and get things settled down and back to normal. First rule, tell no one, until its too late for them to stop you. Second rule, tell them so they will stop you. I drove into the driveway of our home on beautiful Lake Martin where I had always wanted to live and dreamed of retiring and found that in just a few weeks the place had become a haven for beer cans and litter. It looked like we had hired a goat for the gardener. The screen was ripped on the door, weeds had taken over my flower beds and trash was everywhere. My twig arbor was chopped to the ground. My angel statue was gone from the garden.  The wreath was off the front door.  A For Sale Sign was in the front and a new Sea-doo was in the back. My husband's little Porsche was missing but the dogs met me with open paws and slobber. The front door was ajar and the back one standing wide open. The air was on and running for its life. The house smelled funny?!.  The garbage can runneth over with beer and wine bottles and dirty dishes sat in the sink. The refrig only contained "go boxes".  Why, this man has lost his mind missing me! was my first thought. But my second was there was another scent in the air. Smelled like the perfume counter at Walmart after four l0 year olds came through. The TV was on.  The computer was still a humming. I walked to the master suite and a duffel bag sat in the blue rocker in the corner.  A purple thong was on top. From one end of the vanity to the other in the adjacent master bath was an assortment of blow dryers, curling irons, flat irons and stuff that would make the CVS jealous. A bottle of perfume sat in the middle. I gently turned it around to read the label.  "Something Evil".  I walked over to my bed and smelled the pillow on my side. My pretty 600 thread count blue and white Ralph Laurens smelled like "Something Evil" alright. I wiggled the duffel bag and a plane ticket fell out. It had a name. Here I sit, years later, wishing I had dumped everything into the duffel, taken it to the lake and sent it off the end of the pier. I wish I had gone to the kitchen and gotten a fork, picked up those thongs and taken them out to the big oak tree by our bedroom and rubbed them up and down in the poison ivy that infected that tree. I wish I had gotten the gun and sat and waited on them to come prancing in.  But I am a lady, and so I cried and called my sister. She told me to get in my car and leave.  So I hid my car two houses down and  I packed up the extra car with everything I could get my hands on including our new coffee maker that had those cute little pods with it, and the pods, all the liquor, insurance forms, copied everything including his passport, and drove that car into town and parked it in my attorney's lot. Of course, my attorney was on the golf course, but his secretary told me, get the police to take you back, get in your car and leave. The police man who took me back to get my car,  told me, get in your car and leave. My daughter who I called crying said get in your car and leave. My best friends all said the same.  Yes, they were right.  I needed to get in my car and leave.  So I grabbed his Visa off the dresser and our camera, as an afterthought, and got in my car and left. The only problem was I passed this cute little Porsche filled to the brink with an old man and a happy, happy young bitch. And as they passed I got the slightest whiff of "Something Evil".