A couple of times year I unleashed my inner neatness nazi on Mr. Ex's study. I pawed through piles of papers, stacks of magazines, books and documents rising up from the carpet like stalagmites. I threw away the Burger King receipts and the old church bulletins, organized things that would be needed at tax time and filed away household paperwork. When I found un-cashed checks that were out of date, I made phone calls and got them replaced and later hurried the replacements to the bank.
I'm still working for Mr. Ex.
Here in the tiny village of Auvillar where I'm supposed to be writing a collection of short stories set in France, I'm emailing my attorney and pouring over the details of life insurance policies and investment accounts. Then the attorney and the financial guy email me back with questions and I have to think about how to wield the giant pruning shears that divides joint assets.
I want it to be tidy.