"I've told you all along, the big problem is money. I feel like I have to do everything myself. I can't rely on you financially," she informs me from the couch I paid for in the living room of the house we couldn't have bought without the down payment I provided while turning up the volume on the TV I bought her because the washing machine I got her is spinning, which makes it difficult to hear the movie she rented with my Netflix account that's in the DVD player I bought for myself but didn't take when I moved out since I didn't need two of them and I knew she'd get bored only watching the cable that I continue to pay for even though I haven't lived in this house for over a year.

It takes a moment for this to register since I just walked in the door from running out to buy the kids some new clothes for the start of the school year, dropping the payment for the doctor's bill in the mailbox--thankfully, it's much less than it would be if not for the health insurance I pay for--filling up her gas tank, and picking up dinner, which she eats off my dishes, with my silverware, at my dining room table.

But I don't have time to debate--or to show her once again how to add new music to the iPod I picked up for her last summer at the same time I bought her computer for that matter. I have to go round up the kids, who are being watched by my sister, who moved into this neighborhood in part to help provide free babysitting for us, and take them up to my one-room shack in my parents' backyard so she can have some alone time for a week or two, so she'll have to call me later with the new cellphone I bought her four weeks ago.

I'm such a lazy, selfish, ungiving asshole.