Francis arrived last Monday. It was hard to watch him walk away this morning. It was depressing. This weekend, I realized that, right before he leaves to go back to Montreal, I pick fights with him. Stupid fights. Little fights. Fights I regret when I know I won't see him when I get home.
We spent a few days at the beach. Most of the time, I was under the umbrella while Francis was in the water. I think I even got drunk off my semi-virgin margarita because there is a picture of me lying down on my tummy with the towel on my body up to my neck and my face is covered by my hair. It sort of looked like the girl on The Ring on vacation.
For his birthday, I made a little game where he answers questions for points. The grand prize was a portable dvd player (but that's only if he perfected the game). He got the portable dvd player anyway, since he won the Best Buy $75 certificate. At least he got what he wanted. I called in sick on his birthday because I figured that, even if I went to work, my head would be at home. Might as well leave the rest of me there, too. So, we just sat in front of the tv all day till mid-afternoon. We had dinner at the oh-so-good Bucca di Beppo (Italian). And that was that. The rest of the night was spent with me whining about him leaving the next day. I may have sounded like a spoiled brat, but, hey, I have to admit, there is never enough time to spend with him.
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