cry, cry baby...

So let me start off by saying that I was weighed last night and the scale did not move.  Considering the punishment I put my diet (yeah, that's what i'm calling it now.  It's shorter so it's easier to type) through this week, I will take that as a personal victory.  I may not have lost, but at least I didn't gain.  Good enough, moving on.   

Tonight is Friday.  I usually love Fridays.  It's my favorite weekday. You have two work-free days ahead of you, live it up!  Well, this Friday Steven is going out of town.  He is heading up to VA on a fishing trip with his older brother and a friend of theirs.  The boy is more giddy than a nine-year-old at a Hannah Montanna (or is that Miley Cyrus?  Who cares, neither of them can sing.) concert.  He's really quite cute to watch.  I love that he's super excited and I know the boys will have a fantastic time.  

However, my problem is this:  I don't do well staying by myself.  The thought of it will stress me out to no end.  I'm not sure exactly what it is, or honestly, when it happened, but I am a bonafide, possibly certifiable, Scardy Cat.  I spent my youth watching scary movies with my girlfriends.  "Candyman, candyman, cand---"  Well let's not test that out.   I've seen hundreds of them.  And loved them.  Even the cheesy ones that no one should love.  Have you seen Dolly Dearest?  Then you know what I'm talking about.   

I've lived by myself before.  I did it for YEARS.  No issues.  Not one problem.  Then Steven came along and now I only feel safe when he's there.  I don't watch scary movies anymore.  It's sad really.  A whole genre of movies, wiped out.  And staying overnight by myself is something I just avoid.  

So, the parents are coming up to stay with me.  That's sad, isn't it?  I have to be babysat by the folks.  In my (puny) defense, I didn't ask them to come.  They just told me they were.  But it's not like them being there will bother me.  However, it is a tad embarrasing.  Oh well, at least I will get some sleep.