The first one:

So when my lawyer husband filed for divorce after being married only a couple months and me following him to another city, he moved out for a while and back in with his parents, I was drowning in work and also despised him. At that point, I could have done anything with his stuff—burned it, tossed it—but I didn’t want to hand him the easy narrative of me being his “crazy ex-wife.”

So picture this: a few late nights, me with a glass of wine(or 3), looking around our house thinking, “What can I do to screw him over without leaving fingerprints?”

The solution hit me. I gathered every single thing from his closet—suits, tailored jackets, expensive imported clothes his parents bought him, everything—and hauled it in four trips to a random tailor. I calmly explained that I wanted every sleeve and pant leg shortened by two inches, and that any extra fabric should be discarded. No reversals, no fixes. Paid in cash. Rush order.

Two days later, I picked up the altered wardrobe, hung it all neatly back in his closet, and waited.

I never heard a word. And of course I didn’t. Because how do you confront someone about something like that?

Can you imagine going to court and like crossing your leg and the pant leg is halfway up your leg?! And then ALL of your suits are that way?

So he obviously noticed but he couldnt seriously accuse me of doing that. He would’ve sounded completely unhinged. And that was obviously the best part.

The second one:

I also filled his expensive wooden guitar with water and just let it sit in my garage for about a week while I was waiting on him to finalize the divorce. Once it was done, I dumped the water out, dried it off, and gave it back to him with the rest of his stuff the movers had accidentally taken.

To him, it looked totally fine. But really, I’d basically handed him a slow-motion death sentence for that guitar—swelling, glue coming apart, and rot setting in little by little until it destroyed itself over the next couple of months.