Now that I'm making money again, and now that she is gainfully employed, maybe it's time we went our separate ways. It was four years of her mooching, four years of me mooching. I think we're even.
I am a vagrant in my own house. The entire house is hers and I sleep on the couch, in her living room. I have my cave'o'clutter that exists that way only because I've had to cram all my stuff either in my room or the garage. I have tried for years to reduce the amount of CRAP I have, and that has allowed her to occupy more and more of our house with her shit. She has DOZENS of crates of trashy romance novels where furniture should be. She insists on having tons of redundant furniture, and the only reason I haven't taken MY futon and stuck it in MY room is, as soon as there is the tiniest void in the living room, she is going to fill it with yet more crap.
Not to mention she makes any social encounter I have in my house TERRIBLY awkward. I have to exist AROUND her. I've finally realized it has changed who I am. I spend more time worrying about what would piss her off instead of what makes me happy. It's like they say at NASA, "Better Safe than Paperwork." That's how I live. Better to huddle in my room than risk the wrath of her scorn.
We're so the modern dysfunctional family, it makes me SCREAM!