When you’re broke like me, spending a Sunday with the parents is like a mini-vacation. They pamper you and feed you for free and you can always swipe some extra toilet paper or Toaster Streudels lying around. But this Sunday turned out a little different than expected when I was awoken at 8 a.m. and informed that I’d be helping them move every piece of furniture in the house outside. Four hours and a gallon of sweat later I knew the real price of love.
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