I go home, throw in a load of laundry and pour myself a drink. It's in the home stretch now.
So how's the body count? Two years. Many thousands of dollars. Two and a half days in court. Many tears and restless nights. And now left up to the judge who will most likely come up with a decree that will be no more palatable to either of us than if we had done what I suggested two years ago, which was to mediate a settlement and be done with it. Ah, but he wanted to suffer and play the martyr. Which he did. I think all his testimony did was prove why after working my ass off to support him and take his orders for 14 years I decided I'd had enough.
Oh, but it's going to be sweet once I have that decree that legally declares I am no longer his wife. Maybe then he'll finally realize I was never his property to begin with.