Dear Colby

I've been thinking about you a lot this week. Heck, when am I not thinking about you? I miss you. I have been so mad at Josh lately, like last night when he came home a little early so that he could do something before I had to leave at 5:30. He came home so he could unload HIS groceries for HIS little bicycle-riding party this weekend.

Hear that? I call it bicycle riding when I'm angry; it's cycling when all is right with the world.

Anyway, he acted like he was doing me some favor. My blood was boiling by the time I backed out of the driveway, and I knew that if I could, I would call you.

You wouldn't say anything. You wouldn't side with him or with me or try to give me advice in any way. You would just listen patiently until I was finished ranting and then politely change the subject.

Oh and tonight, I need to call you again. He threw away the stuff-and-clutter. And, I know I don't need to explain that any further. Just that in the almost 8 years that he's known me... well he must not know me at all.

I promise I'm not this depressing all the time. You, of all people, certainly wouldn't want that. But since I can't call...