More for September 30

I am independent to a fault.  What I think of as a fault.

Maybe.

And bear with me, there is still muscle relaxers talking, and I'm about to take more.  Haven't had a dose since 4am.

My dear sweet friend tried to hold my little basket for me at the grocery store, and I wouldn't let her.  And she tried to help me find the kind of ibuprofen I was looking for, and I told her, "Let me be the decider."  Or something equally as silly.

I do everything for myself.  Without a room mate or significant other, all the chores are mine to do.  All the groceries get got by me.  The pets? I feed them, clean the litter boxes, let Bailey out, and dote all the loving.  And I spend a lot of time, quite honestly, wishing and wishing that just once I could have somebody to help me.

And then?
I don't let my dear sweet friend hold my basket for me.

And this is no every day dear sweet friend kind of friend.  This is the sister kind of dear sweet friend.  The chosen sister kind.  I've got two of them right now.  Both big sisters.  Which I've never had literally or figuratively.  And she offered her help, and instead of being accepting, I had to be Independent.  I'm not mad at myself.  I know she's not mad at me either.  Just a basket.  Just some ibuprofen.  But I'd like to get better at accepting help.