I have lived abroad for a great number of years since getting divorced and used to drop into a local bar occasionally for a beer. One day I went in and the owner had changed, so I sat down for a chat. The usual questions were asked, including where he came from. “You won’t know it,” he said. “It’s only a small place.” “Try me,” I said. When he told me the name of the place, I said that I grew up just outside the town.

Conversation went on and he lamented that he had just had to sell his beloved house that he had spent so much time and effort on, so I asked where it was. He told me the street and I asked for the number, which he gave, confirming my suspicion:

My ex-wife was the new owner of his house.

[EDITOR: Let me guess — you knew the address by heart due to the alimony payments?]

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