Remember how I had a great, productive list to get through a week and a half ago? Yeah, that didn't happen.
Yesterday I was finally able to scrub the kitchen floor. After a variety of delays (*cough*Mac*cough*Michael*cough*) I turned on my favorite Coldplay album(s) and attempted to begin what was supposed to be the most cathartic experience I've had in weeks. Yeah, that didn't happen.
Approximately thirty minutes into the genuine cathartic experience the front door was knocked upon. I assumed it was just another delay (*cough*Thomas*cough*) but it was actually a friend that wanted to catch up. Unfortunately, I did not want to catch up. I wanted to scrub linoleum. I begrudgingly let him in, though I continued to work, and reluctantly carried on a conversation in which he asked how long I'd been scrubbing and was surprised to hear the time I'd started. I defended myself by explaining that one of the delays in my progress had wanted to talk about some stuff, and my friend responded with, "A lot of people seem to make you their confidant, don't they?"
Don't you hate when someone says something kind about you after you've been sending them strong, "Leave me alone so I can think about my own life" vibes? Especially after discussing friendship just a short time earlier. Gah. Kill me now.
Except don't. Because I really ought to work on this friendship thing before I go. That's kind of the point.
Post Script: *I don't want you to think I resent these boys for frequently delaying the plans I make for myself. They usually make my life better. They get the friendship thing better than I do.