It was Saturday October 4, 2008. Chris arrived home at 8:30 p.m after a long flight from Chicago.
I was standing in the driveway ready to vacate our home. It had become clear that our home would never be safe for us. After two mold remediations, it was time to start over. (Read about Chris' perspective in the post "My Wife is Crazy.")
I had only my purse and the clothes on my back. I had taken the kids to various friends' homes.
"Treat the home like it was on fire," the toxicologist advised us.
Chris decided to change out of his suit. He went upstairs and laid the suit on our new leather chair.
The suit stayed in the chair, and the shoes remained on the floor until they were tossed 19 months later. (We sold our home for the cost of our loan to avoid foreclosure. Everything was dumped. See the article "Why the Dumpsters?")
Six months after leaving the home, our daughter toured the vacated home with our legal team. (See more about our failed legal action in Chris's post "It Isn't Fair.")
It was a haunting tour for Shannon, one captured in the following photos.
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