I am out of here.
I grow tired of dealing with my husband. I am attaching my Dear John letter to him, so you can read for yourself.
Dear boring rat-faced git:
Its over, I don't care how many different types of trees you dream of leaping on in British Columbia. Its embarrassing that you shout albatross at parties. Its crazy enough to have house rules in general but including some saying no pooftahs? The parrot is "dead" yet you refuse to throw it out? I put my foot down on calling all our pets Eric yet do you listen? Its fine you try to find me various jack cheeses at the local cheese shop on the way home but you always forget to put down the toilet seat. I don't care how many derrieres your boss Mr. Frampton has, he can't come over and watch wrestling when Oprah is on.
I have only begun to rant, its not my bleeding fault so few kamikaze scotsmen survived training, its not like I did anything! Arthur Jackson may be a git but please stop asking him how many sheds he has. I could beat you to a pulp easily no matter how many types of cherries you learn to defend yourself against. I admit all our cats could use some confusing but really dear, who brings Richard Simmons home? Stop with the nudge nudges after each chore you do, its not romantic and you smell like cabbage. I admit, you maybe right though, McDonald's does need more Spam choices on its menu. Do I care how many of our neighbors expect the Spanish Inquisition? Lastly, I wish I had a fish for every time I could slap you with one!
There, I got that off my chest. I have left you my coordinates but they will not do you any good, they just stand for the nearest bus stop out of town. We are through you nasty stuck up twit
You can check your answers for this puzzle on Geochecker.com.