It's getting progressively and ever-more-rapidly difficult to manage the process of stopping the residual love I have for her without replacing it with what would surely be a lush and ever-expanding hatred for her. Which would do Themselves no good at all. (But which would, I suspect, feel oh-so-good.)
I think hate, or rather seething anger, is part of the process you'll have to go through. Just don't ever let Themselves know about it.
I think the winter is about the worst time for dealing with this kind of crud. The days are short, dank and dreary; it's too cold to play outside; and the 49er's are not in the playoffs. How much more depressing can it get?
