Next time a boyfriend asks me to come to Boston to celebrate his birthday the weekend before I have to move, I'm saying "no." If I'm going to get dumped anyway, I'd rather not have to spend the next week trying to recoup two days of lost packing while breaking down into tears every hour or so
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That's the extent of the good news, though. We need to ride the landlady's arse about at least fixing the wires and such.
*hugs and stuff*
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If you are who I think you are, by the style of your writing, would you accept the offer of another set of hands to help move?
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