A little assistance?

Today I filed for a petition for the dissolution of my marriage to Drummer, spun hula hoops for an hour on various parts of my anatomy, paid someone to stick needles in me in the name of health and wellness, and purchased a very moderately priced desk. In that order.
I was married for a year, and I suppose no one was really surprised when it all fell apart fairly early on. Or perhaps they were. I didn't really talk to many people about it at the time, for reasons that I'm still not sure of. I'm keeping up with that trend by not really talking to anyone about the long-awaited divorce. I tried talking to a few people about it, and as is often the case when I try to talk to anyone about anything, it didn't go well. I don't know whether that was because of my choice of confidantes, or because I'm just crap at sharing. Probably both.
I know I wasn't surprised when Drummer and I broke up. Disappointed, maybe. But not surprised. We'd been unhappy for quite a long time, and had a few pretend break-ups in the lead-up to the big show. You see, I'd been married before for much the same reason, and that went down in flames in about a year, too. A pattern had already been established. I was sad that I had once again failed, and sad that we didn't love each other any more. I was also angry about various things, but that's pretty standard for me. Maybe I was a little angrier than usual, but after a summer of sleeping on my friend's boyfriend's couch and living off beer, bagels and cigarettes, I calmed down.
Drummer and I are both a long way from where we were when we broke up, and both much happier, I think. He has a dog and a beard and a girlfriend back in his hometown, and I have full-time student status and a savings account and All-star, who bought me a zombie finger-puppet for our anniversary.
In regards to the divorce, it was all relatively straightforward. We didn't have any kids, and were too pitifully broke to have any mutual property to divide. And since it would be a cold day in hell before Drummer could provide me with any kind of alimony, that wasn't really an issue either. Hell, he couldn't even keep me in ramen noodles and K-mart underwear most of the time when we were actually together. I don't think it's entirely fair, though, that I'm the one who had to go through three separate trips to the Daley Center, wait in countless queues, deal with surly underpaid, overworked government clerks, type up the petition and judgement, make copies and get them notarised, pay the fees, and set up the court date. Oh, and actually appear at said court date next week. Although Drummer did say he'd hit me up with half the dinero if I went into his work to pick it up. Another fucking mission over to the north side, hooray.
The long and the short of it is that in about a week, it will all be over and done with. Then I can concentrate my attentions fully on ruining my current relationship. Oh, I'm sorry. Did that sound bitter?
The nice people at Target designated the desk I bought as a "Team Lift" item. It was apparently too heavy or bulky for one person alone to handle safely. This didn't stop me from carrying it all by myself through the store to the checkout, through the car park to the bus stop, home on the bus, and up the stairs to my apartment, however. I am beginning to think that there are a great many "Team Lift" items in my life, but much like my fellow Target shoppers and CTA riders, no matter how much I appear to be struggling with them, no one I know is going to offer to help.