He's gone. I haven't seen him since the confrontation on Saturday; he was home last night when I got home but stayed shut off in his room. This morning very early Michelle woke me up with a "I think he is moving stuff out right now and has some guy helping him." I nodded and dozed off again, thinking he'd be making several trips to wherever it is he is taking his stuff, and that in a few minutes I'd go out and get his new address so that I could forward along any mail that came for him while I am still here. 30 minutes later Michelle woke me again with a "holy sh*t, I think he is completely gone! His room is completely empty!" Sproing!
Yep, every last thing of his was gone. He took the mop (mine) and broom (his) and all the cleaning supplies (mine) too --but didn't clean the room. I will gladly buy new supplies to clean it in exchange for his being gone. He must have gotten some professional movers this time --when he moved in it took him a full day. He left the bookcase, kitchen items, and cd rack I'd given him (things I'm not taking with me). Silly gesture on his part because now he doesn't get the use of them and someone else will and I'm not inconvenienced because Goodwill can pick them up at the same time as they take the other stuff they are coming to collect.
I feel intense relief that he is gone. I also feel a little guilty --I always hate that feeling of things ending badly. But really, he brought this on himself by his actions. I feel sorry for him because he is such an inadequate human being and I think he will always end up feeling like he is getting the short end of the stick as a result of treating others like crud.