Joy Sucker

The GPS is a wonderful little invention. The type that most people have gives directions. It can help you find your way to where ever you need to go. It sits on your dashboard or suctioned to your window, speaking in a voice of your choosing, telling you where and when to turn and announcing when you have arrived at your destination. What could be more awesome? Well, I will tell you. The one that I bought online. It is called The Snitch. It doesn’t sit out in plain sight, it hides in a vehicle. It doesn’t tell you where to go, in fact it doesn’t speak at all. It is silent and stealthy and reports the position of the vehicle its hidden in by way of satellite signals to the computer of the person who hid it, and that would be me. The Snitch is about the size of a large cell phone and it fit very nicely strapped to the jack in the trunk. It was the ideal place for it. The jack was secured in the wheel well under a piece of press board that was under the carpet in the trunk. The only way he would happened to come across it is if he got a flat tire. Chances where that if he did, he would be too drunk to change the tire anyway. So that is where I decided to hide The Snitch. I had a holder for my MP3 player that was the perfect size for my new toy. It had an elastic strap with velcro so you could put it around your arm while exercising. Since that hadn’t been an activity of mine for quite some time the holder was not being used. I blew the dust off it and slipped the Snitch in. The only problem was that the front of it was clear vinyl so you could see right in to it. Big orange and black letters spelling out its name. This would not do. I was afraid I might forget to put it away sometime and he might see it and then the jig would be up. I forgot how blissfully unaware he was of what and how much I knew, and that he probably wasn’t bright enough to put two and two together anyway. So, in a moment of extreme overkill, I actually scanned my MP3 player, printed a picture of it and inserted it in the holder, thus disguising The Snitch. Like I said, overkill, but it was this type of attention to detail that aided me in my search for the facts. Everyday after Dick left for work I would plug it in and charge it up. Then, after dinner while he was in the shower I would sneak down to the garage and secure it to the jack. Quickly, but quietly I would close the trunk and return to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the dishes. After he left for the evening I would sit, at the computer and watch his every move. I kept a journal of where he went and how long he stayed. One night he had a big old story of where he was going and who he would be seeing. He usually just said he was going out, nothing more, just out. But this night he was being too specific. I knew something was up. There I was, for hours, with my laptop beside me yelling at the screen….”LIER!!!” “YOU LYING SACK OF S#!T!!” The worst part of it was that I only knew where he was, but not what he was doing or who he was with, doing whatever it was he was doing. My imagination ran wild. Not a good thing. Sometimes I would cry, sobbing hysterically, “Why? Why don’t you love me anymore?” Other times I would get so angry I would scream, just stand there and scream until my throat was raw. I think I was trying to purge myself of what I was feeling. After a time I noticed that I was pretty much feeling nothing. And this was not only when I was tracking Dick. It was all the time. There was no anger, no sadness, certainly no shock, but also, no happiness, peace, or love. I had shut down. He had sucked the joy and right out of my life. I was just going through the motions, trying to survive emotionally, until I was ready to do something to change my situation and that wouldn’t be for another six months