02/20/15 – Score: +2
02/21/15 – Score: +3.5
02/22/15 – Score: +3

The last three days have been crazy. Friday I was busy all day on the phones. I made more outgoing calls than I took out of the queue by a 2:1 ratio. My brain was a mashed cantaloupe by the end of the day.

Friday night I went and picked up Amanda and we drove over to my parent’s RV and I formally introduced her to them. It went great. We all sat around and joked and passed the pipe. I picked up some food that I was to keep safe in my fridge and Amanda and I came back to my apartment to spend the night. We talked, played Katamari Damacy and held hands on my futon. I’m adjusting to having someone new who I can touch and feel… all theses areas in me have been laying dormant for a while until now. And I feel a shift has occurred: I don’t pine for sex the same way I used to with other partners. I think it’s because Amanda is willing to be open and emotional with me, and I feel connected to her in a way that supersedes the intimacy of physicality. Don’t get me wrong though blog, the sex is wonderful, but it’s not the primary way I’m bonding to her.

Saturday was the day of my dad’s 60th birthday party, and many things needed to be done. My truck was a huge part of the plan. I packed it full to the brim in La Mesa with goods and supplies, then drove everything into mission valley off Qualcomm way where the venue for the party was located. The place was a property managed by Oakwood, and the only reason we got to hold our big party there was because Tina (my mom’s brother’s wife) hooked it up for is for free. It was a giant room, with a pool table, three bar areas for sitting, a living room with couches and three TVs, a big kitchen and a theatre. Yes, a theatre, with maybe 20 recliners in four tiered rows and a digital projector mounted to the ceiling. Nice. Anyway, I carried all the supplies, food, drinks and decorations down there and unloaded it all into the room. But I could not stay there and help set it up, because I had two loads of laundry to do and that was likely to take the better part of 3 hours to complete. If I didn’t do it then, I was not going to have clean clothes for the week. So Amanda and I hung out at my place and had a nice afternoon together. Then we hopped right back in the truck and went to the party two hours early to help. Once things got going it was all in autopilot. The party went great. I did tech support and got a slide show going on the theatre room projector. Then people started showing up.

Now, I was aware that the dress code was “cocktail party” but had thought about this earlier in the day. Was I really going to dress up and then work my ass off all evening with the cleaning in my slick digs? I thought of myself struggling to keep my sleeves rolled up while I got water and food all over my button up shirt and slacks. It was a bad idea to clean up after a 30 person party in my best outfit. So I did not dress up, I wore my working clothes. I do somewhat regret doing this. But I also knew what had to be done. No one else was going to wash the dishes but me. No one else was going to pack up dinner and move shit back into my truck. I didn’t mind not being dressed up because I was working, and being an effective worker is more important than looking temporarily sharp.

Amanda came to the rescue and helped me in my effort to clean and pack nearly everything before the party died down. People started leaving, and Amanda and I must have made 15 trips from the room to the truck carrying things. My dad helped towards the end because he could see us busting ass to clean up and I think he wanted to feel useful. But it was HIS party. He should have just relaxed.

After the truck was (again) stuffed to the brim with things, we headed back to my apartment and unloaded the perishable food and coolers back into my kitchen. We faded out rapidly into blissful sleep.

Sunday was the day that I was supposed to go paintballing, but as morning arrived, I realized that my plan was doomed. I still had my whole truck jammed with stuff from the party, and no where to put it. I couldn’t unload it into my apartment. Doing so would then obligate me to pack it back up again when I was done with paintball, THEN drive it somewhere to be unpacked. I took Amanda home first and was headed out to rural Lakeside where the course was located, but I stopped less than half way: I aborted paintball, as I realized the commitment I made to help my family with my dad’s party sill required my attention.

I spun a lie to my coworkers about why I could not go, and I don’t care to disclose the truth to them about the reality of my priorities. My life, and its intricate workings, are not knowledge I want them to have. So to them, my alternator died, and I went to have it fixed for $380. Done. I was already in El Cajon, so I went by storage and pulled the last of the polished rocks out of the tumbler. I bagged those up, went home and loaded both coolers back into my truck and any additional boxes that needed moving. I took everything to my parents RV, and there we sifted through it to remove anything that was going to stay with my parents. My sister and I drove separately to the storage unit (again), where I unpacked the last of the things from the party, and loaded a big rug and an inflatable bed into the jeep for my sister to take with her to my cousin’s house. It was only at this point did I stop working for the party. I went home again, but quickly went back down the street and bought all the groceries I would need for the week ahead. I made lunch and did some of the final chores at my apartment. At around 3:45 I took off for Amanda’s house to help her do her housework that she was behind on (having spent almost no time at home because she was with me). I got there to find her unconventional friend Kasey there with her developmentally delayed son doing their laundry at Amanda’s expense and using her hot water to clean Kasey’s son Gavyn. He’s 3, and can’t speak any words yet, and he is sill wearing a diaper because he is not potty trained. He cries and freaks out a lot, and rolls around on the ground squealing and flapping his arms when things don’t go his way. His mom is a meth addict who’s primary occupations are prostitution and stripping. I don’t know what kind of mom she is. I mean, from what I can see she does care and love her son, but I don’t know enough to pass judgement. I just see things from the outside and begin to wonder. But anyway, while Kasey was there I helped Amanda clean every single dish in her sink, then hauled all the trash down to the dumpsters, then folded all her clean clothes and Tristan’s clothes and put them away. By the time 6:15 rolled around Kasey was gone and Amanda and I ordered a sushi feast and brought it back to her apartment. A wonderful way to spend an evening… in her company.

Blog, this has been quite a weekend as you can see. I have been busy the whole way through. I know ur was wrong of me to lie about not being able to go to paintball, but I value my privacy tremendously at work, and don’t ever want to let anyone in on how the priorities of my life are arranged. I don’t want them to be in on it. So I tell lies to protect myself.

I’ve had an eventful weekend. I hope yours was good as well. I feel strongly about Amanda, and I am so impressed how she handled a difficult situation. She rose to the occasion, and I am so thankful for her help. She made things go a lot easier, and worked until she was injured. I’m glad she’s on my team. That’s for sure.