get packed into a large piece of luggage. She closed the lid and latched the bag. She then turned to face me.

"I've dropped off Mark at his place. He's telling his wife the same thing I told you. I'm tired of your crap the same as Mark is tired of her's. We've
both rented an apartment around the college area and we are going to move in together. I'm going to go pick him up and we are going to start a new life together free from the both of you. Goodbye, you bipolar gremlin!"

She picked up her suitcase, walked around me and headed out the front door. I watched from the front door as she put her suitcase in the back of her car,
got in, and backed out out the driveway. I stared in disbelief as she drove west on Corona Avenue to the end of the street. She made a left turn onto
61st Terrace and was out of my sight. Gone forever.

I stood at the door for what seemed like hours allowing the heat from the hot July day rush into the house making the air conditioner start to work
overtime. I finally had a little common sense to come back to me and shut the door before the cats tried to get out. I turned to look at the living room.
The entire house began to feel like something from The Amityville Horror. Nothing was right. Nothing felt right. The heartbeat of the house was gone.
The house was in cardiac arrest and there wasn't a cussing thing I could do abou t it.

I took a step towards the bedroom only to be stopped by three cats who were staring up at me. They knew something was terribly wrong. They sat there with
a blank look on their faces. Their tails didn't wag. They didn't even blink
as they looked long and hard at me, wondering what I was going to do next. I stepped over them and into the bedroom. I stared at the bed where all that
love was made. I fell face forward into the mattress and started crying uncontrollably. The reality of my situation finally caught up with me. The three cats each jumped onto the bed one at a time and rubbed their heads against me as I let out heaving sobs. The cats tried to comfort me the best they could at what was my worst hour.

Soon even they laid down on the bed and watched me closely like a momma cat watches her kittens knowing that there wasn't a cussing thing they could do to help me no matter how bad they wanted to. They had to allow my emotions to
run their course. All they could do was lay down close to me and be on standby for whatever may happen next. That was July 2010. For the next two months I played scramble as I tried my best to handle things on my own without help
from a life partner. During this time we got the divorce settled and signed by a judge. My ex-wife and her new lover immediately started to make wedding
plans for June of the following year. I also worked out a system to get my
life back in some sort of financial balance by using my Five Program Bonus
Disk that I wrote on my Commodore for use to balance a person's personal economy.

I was moving at the speed of evolution in getting some footing under me but my heart was heavy. The scars that the ex-wife left on my soul were still fresh and tender. Little things were getting me mad as a hornet. It got to a point where my sitation started to affect my job performance. Work had to let me go for bad customer relations as well as customer complaints. Now I was freshly divorced and out of a job. I didn't know what to do. Why was all of this happening to me? I felt like God Himself was mad as sin at me for something that I did and I had no idea what that was.

I sat at home the day after I was fired. I was on the divan pondering what I should do for work. I knew I shouldn't think about working right away. I had way too much to process in my life at the moment to really be of any use to
any employer. My rule of thumb has always been that, if you are fired, laid
off from your job, or some other personal disaster, to take three days to decompress so you can be the best you can be for yourself and those around
you. When you can get a good grip on yourself then go look for a job. Today
was different for me. I've always been Mister "Go go go!" and now my steam engine has run out of fire in the fire box. I went to my room where the five drawer filing cabinet was stored. In all five drawers were hundreds of manilla folders. Each folder contained one of my stories, skits, plays, articles, or
a newsletter of a Commodore club where I made a story contribution.

I opened the top drawer where all my Commodore work was stored. In the front was a copy of my 100% self published book, "Run/Stop-Restore". I pulled it
out and went to the front page. On that page was written the following:

TO MY DARLING WIFE ---
THANKS FOR MAKING ME A SUCCESS! YOUR LOVING HUSBAND, LENARD

I whispered a vile word under my breath and was about to throw the book into the trash. I didn't need to have any reminders of my exwife in my house. As I was heading to the big trash can in the kitchen I stopped short. I looked at the book again, then opened it and started flipping through the pages. I would stop at a story and read a few lines. I smiled as I remembered the circumstances and situations that brought that story to mind. I looked at a
few more selections, each time remembering where I was and what I was doing that prompted me to put the story on paper. I left the kitchen and walked to the living room still flipping pages. I sat down in my armchair and started reading what I have compiled back in 2000. Those were some great times back when I working on making the book possible.

Then a thought hit me. Did I still have to original hardcopies of these
stories that I put in this compilation book in my files? I rose from my chair and, with book in hand, went back to my bedroom and the file cabinet. I
started thumbing through the book. As I came across a story in the book, I would look for the original copy that I had filed away. As I found each story folder I threw the file on the bed then looked for more. In the matter of an

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