Just What I Fucking Need

To have the doorbell ring, answer it in my bathrobe in the morning only to be greeted by the shinny reflection off a plainclothes policeman's badge. Seems my darling ex-wife wants to modify the restraining order to include the house she is renting in Cle Elum, and the house which is not even built. I must be quite a threat. The hearing is on February 11. I don't know why I let this shit bother me, but it does. . . very much so. I just want to have access to my children and be an active part of their lives. But I don't know how much longer I can live this way. I didn't think it possible to shatter the already broken pieces of my heart. But sure enough, grinding them into the ground with a boot heel is an effective method.