I would rather eat ground glass than live with Mr. Trac-Fone again.
We did an in-home separation after d-day, and it was a living hell.
I remain his healthcare proxy (long complicated history, but I'm the best one for the role), so if he ever has a heart transplant (like anyone with a brain would allocate an organ to a trainwreck like him), I suppose he'll be back here during (what tends to be a rather rapid) convalescence.
But he'll be out as soon as the staples are. I'm DONE with him.