... was yesterday.
I am now a free woman.
It was a near thing, though. My thrice-accursed lawyer forgot my file. He claimed there were two files on his desk, with similar names, and he grabbed the wrong one. I gritted my teeth and restrained myself from ripping his liver out, and he asked the judge for a recess while he went back and fetched my documents.
The judge signed. I have a certified copy of the decree. We all breathed a sigh of relief, although I confess that I felt a bit sick and wrung-out afterwards, from the release of tension and the adrenaline-drain. I bought a deep-dish pizza, a piece of key-lime pie, and a bottle of sparkling grape juice, went home to my parents' house, and binged. Then I took a hot bath, read a book on 19th-century American life, went to bed early and slept like the dead for nine hours.
Today I feel a bit lighter (well, the pizza is kind of weighing me down, but it was worth it). Still a bit disoriented and frustrated, as I am yet without permanent lodgings, but we shall take care of that very shortly. I am wearing my new silk skirt and intend to go shoe-shopping over lunch. Things are looking to improve rapidly.