define love again for me, would you?

Okay, let’s make it clear. Today, I don’t feel guilty. I can count the muscles in my neck as they tighten in spasms for me to take note. We cleaned Greg’s apartment yesterday, hoping to get the damage deposit back. We spent $200 on a carpet cleaner and other supplies I thought we had to have, then proceeded to bring the place back to “new” again. Somehow, we convinced ourselves that Greg would see how much we love him, if we cleaned it ourselves. If we’d hired the best cleaning service in town, it wouldn’t have cost $200, and we’d have had our pina coladas on the beach together with bonding time to spare. We did manage three square meals that were way too good, including some Cuban food which I love. And this morning, it’s almost time to start the eating frenzy over. Not much else to add to this, but I’m just going to say it: boy dirt is worse than girl dirt. And dog hair wins the prize. But if your love language is “acts of service,” we love you, Greg and Rebel.


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