Another Day in my Neighborhood

This past weekend, I had yet another awkward encounter around my apartment/hovel. (Does it ever seem like everywhere I go, I run into problems with my neighbors/living space? I think this has happened in three different states now. Some people might start to wonder about the "real source of the trouble" considering that the only constant in all of these equations is me. Luckily, I've never really considered myself "some people." If I have a gift, it's denial. As I've said on many occasions, reality has never really agreed with me.) Anyway, as I was leaving my apartment the other day, I saw my landlord's ex-husband in the driveway. I don't know much about my landlord's ex, other than that he is indeed her ex-husband and that he still "stops over" on a semi-regular basis. What these "stop overs" entail, I'll leave to the imagination, but my landlord did offer to have him come over and set up my cable for me one time. Since setting up my cable involved attaching one end of a coaxial cable to the wall and the other end to my TV set, I declined the offer. But, the other day was the first time we officially "met." He was in the driveway when I walked out the door, and he proceeded to introduce himself. It went something like this: "Hi, you must be the new tenant. I'm Andrew." "Hi, Andrew," I said. "It's nice to meet you." "Yeah," he said, "I'm the ex-husband." "Uh-huh..." "Yep, I'm the ex..." I nod. "This used to be my house." "Oh, really?" I said. After all, what are you really supposed to say in this kind of situation? "Yep, I bought it eight years ago. I bought it long before I even met Cobey." More nodding from me. Really, where do you go with this? That sucks? Life isn't fair? What did you do - cheat on her or something? "It was my house. My house for years. But, I guess that's what happens when you get divorced." Divorce sucks? Divorce isn't fair? Then, almost like he realized he was being awkward but still didn't understand the full depth of the discomfort he was causing me, he said, "So, do you like living in my house?" That's when I said it looked like rain and ran. My second gift (after denial) is the pathological need to avoid confrontation and unpleasantness at all costs. It's one of the reasons I'd have to vote myself off the island after the first day on "Survivor." (Well, that and the fact that I would be hated by all the other participants for my inability to complete physical challenges of any kind or run more than six feet without complaining and/or panting.)