Dreams and ancient condom wrappers

I find it interesting, if not ironic, or TOTAL BULLSHIT that the evening after we both dream I end up with my ex, she finds another[yes another] fucking ancient shred of a condom wrapper from god knows when. From far before her time.
1. I'm not fastidious, particularly when it comes to corners.
2. When opening a condom, the least of your concerns is where the wrapper goes.
I'm fairly certain that this is god's way of sending Karma back to me. I've never cared so little for cheating as with her; naturally, she would find the most disconcerting evidence right? Every other girl was oblivious, or maybe just stupid, according to her. She's smart and she notices things. I don't know where the fuck these things keep coming from. I haven't used a condom since last April. I just found this shred on the floor buried under piles of cords when I plugged my external drive back in and didn't make it all the way to the garbage, because I thought it wouldn't be bothersome. Silly me. I told her that and she says ''ok." See also I-have-no-choice-but-to-trust-you-so-I'm-going-to-trust-you-because-the-alternative-is-so-distasteful.
This would not be so problematic but for the fact that this is not the first time "ok" has meant that, nor the first time that "ok" has meant that re: condom wrappers. Unless I'm mistaken, each discovery is a new tiny shred of the same goddamn wrapper, but until every remaining shred is recovered, it only serves to shroud me deeper in suspicion. Sometimes I can't shake the image of her leaving me because of something like that, leaving me shaking and stammering, protesting helplessly and earnestly, honestly declaring my innocence as she walks away, determined I am nothing but a two-timing snake, the like of which she has dealt with before. The like of which I [now I think foolishly] admitted to her I used to be when we first got together, in the interests of full disclosure. Let that be a lesson to keep your mouth shut. How many more times will ancient trash from far-gone corners of the room cast a strike against me?
Tonight, presently, I will go in, get into bed beside her and eventually fall asleep. Until sleep wipes my brain though, her thoughts, fears and paranoia, real or imagined, will be screaming in my head. God, you've made your point. Enough with the FUCKING WRAPPERS.