So my weekend was kinda a suckfest.
Everything was going wonderfully until Friday at about noon. That's when I got to Glenwood. I was there for the next ten hours, helping my mom move.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to help. Kinda.
At the end of the night, Mom told me she didn't need me to come down the next day, which was good because I wanted to watch football all day and just do what I wanted. I got home, showered, watched some tv and marked it up to just a shitty day with high hopes for the rest of the weekend.
The next morning Nick texted and asked what was on my agenda for the day. I delightfully replied that I was free as a bird.
I spoke too soon. Grandma called me ten minutes later and was upset; no one was showing up to help and the ones that were there weren't doing anything, and "things seem to happen faster when you're here Jennifer."
Mother fucker. Like I can really tell my Grandma no. So off I went, again, only this time I called in reinforcements in the forms of my three siblings. The four of us joined forces, but I was still there for ten hours. At least the Husker game I missed was a pisshole of a showing by my dear team.
On Sunday I absolutely refused to go near Glenwood or the suburb of Pacific Junction. Instead, I slept in, then ran a few errands, then laid on my couch. I didn't do anything extra special, but it was the best day.
When I laid down last night, I thought about what a great day I had. That's when it hit me. I seriously only enjoy myself when I am doing exactly what I want, when I want.
I'm a spoiled brat.
And that's number 6581351 why I need to stay single and childless foreva.