Even the tedious tasks of cleaning (he was a fucking slob who apparently had no problem living in filth) and packing all his things (he pulled his usual Bitch-Baby crap and left with only a small backpack of who knows what) is a pleasure. I'm in no hurry to get his things to him; I just want his shit out of my house.
I apologize in advance if in the next coming months I seem a little bipolar. He still has a way of making me puppy-murder furious even when he isn't around.
So in summary - Whhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooo Hoooooooooooooooooooooo!
