I don't really know whether my help will be worth 10 hours in the car and 70 bucks of gas, seeing as how my ankle's been giving me fits this week. Really, I don't know if I'll be any more help than the last time they moved when I was nearly four years old.

The gesture is more symbolic than anything, and I bought into that aspect hook, line and sinker. I've been hoping they'd move out of their old dumpy house for years. I've tried to plant seeds and encourage this, but to no avail. On top of that, they've helped me move now nine times since I helped them once, and when I helped them I certainly didn't do much. Now, they're moving and I'm helping.

I'd much rather stay with Amy, who has to work. I've missed her this week, and I'll miss her more this weekend. I hate it.

It's only fair that I should help, though, regardless of various hardships I have to endure to do it. I feel like I should support this action of self-improvement, because that has happened so rarely with my parents in the past.

And to think, we studied symbolic interaction in sociology just yesterday...