As ever, my friends are amazing. Saturday four gorgeous men came to help my family pack. Sunday four other gorgeous men came and helped load and transport boxes. The only bad thing about this, I realized last night as I put their picture in the right spot in my photo library (of course, I had them take a picture before they left), was how pretty they are. You may recall me talking about the new photo-editing tool that was part of the Aperture upgrade—the skin-smoothing tool. Well I have taken to using it on everyone—even friends. It doesn’t change anything, just takes away any blemishes and whatnot they may have on a certain day. Well as I got out said tool to help my Sunday friends out, I couldn’t even find a place they needed it. Nowhere. I love them, but it is really just rude and inconsiderate of them. They need to have at least one imperfection somewhere!
It was really amazing to see my family with them. It’s nothing my friends would even had noticed, but my folks, especially my dad, was a wreck before the first group came over—could barely sleep the night before—to the point I was re-thinking my request to my friends. However, (and it probably didn’t seem like that much to my friends—its amazing how much of a change eight new hands can make), my folks were so grateful to them when they left and seemed to feel pretty comfortable with them while they were there. It is so very hard for my folks to not only ask for help but to actually need it. Lucky for me, I am extremely used to needing help, uhg. What the boys did in a total of four hours would have taken my family days (literally). I know how blessed I am to have such a wonderful group of friends that are family to me. Even if they are too pretty.
On this first day of Spring Break, before I continue with helping my folks move (thanks to the boys, we are going to get it done!), I am having lunch with Chad. I can’t wait to get it over. I was hoping he’d cancel. I was scared he would cancel. It’s been three months since out last lunch. I don’t understand how you can go from loving someone, living with them, kissing them every day, falling asleep together every night, making love consistently, to seeing them every three months and that being okay with one of them. Well, he’d see me a lot more, if he wasn’t trying to not hurt me—the three-month thing is my fault. Him being okay when I’m not is his. So, off to lunch. Pretend to be normal. Pretend to be as okay as I can. Pretend that I’m stronger than I am.