The lazy prick I married. While he farts around, thinking up new business ideas (read 'excuses why I am not working') I'm supposed to make sure he has a roof over his head. I found out today he is looking into contesting the settlement agreement, which he willingly signed. The only problem is that he has nothing and since he doesn't want to work, he hopes to get something if he contests it. When I met him all he had was a gym bag full of his clothes. At least now, he has a whole wardrobe and a few pieces of furniture. What a bonus. I now have to run around, find a lawyer and find out if he can pull this shit. I have a whole lot of evil thoughts concerning him going through my head at the moment.

This morning, before I found out about his shameless scheme, I had to go to the house with the police so they could take photographs for a robbery case. (some background - In July, I was held up with the baby for 2 hours at knife point. The guy has been arrested. Still in Jail. We will be going for the second day of the trial in early Feb. The judge asked for photographs so that he could see what I was talking about whenever I reffered to the house in my evidence.) Anyway, I couldn't bring myself to even greet him. His sorry friends were still sleeping - at 10:30 and they wonder why they won't have a home to live in once I boot their lazy asses out. The only reason the head-prick was up is because he had to open for us, and since the gates & doors aren't remote controlled, he had to get his ass out of bed to do it.

The house is filthy. Some of the filth doesn't look like it will ever come out. There are about 6-8 dagga plants, standing taller than me - ok, I'm not so tall at 1.5m, but still. I can't believe the cops didn't even mention them. I really wonder what would happe n if I had to report his crops to the police. (Evil thoughts are coming back - and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.) Maybe a weekend spent in the cells will knock some sense into him.

Everything else in the garden is just as overgrown. How 3 able bodied men can live in a house where the one walkway is a dead end because of overgrown weeds is beyond me. The floors look like they haven't seen a mop in a while. My how the mighty have fallen. This is the same prick who used to complain about my housekeeping.

Have I already mentioned that he is a prick? Gosh, if the fear of jail didn't keep me from doing major harm to him, the lazy bastard would probably be in a wheelchair by now.

OK, Enough hate for today.