This is possibly the worst part of the week: Sunday night.
I do. not. want to go to work tomorrow.
Ugh.
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The Year of More and Less
Life continues apace. I like being in my late thirties. I have my shit roughly together. I'm more secure and confident in who I am....
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The past two Sundays, I've gone with the boss-man to a nearby shooting range and learned to handle a gun. For those of you who know me f...
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So I've been caught in a swirl of lethargy and forgot about this grand holiday almost completely; hence the no blogvertisements. BUT thi...
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So. The last two weeks have been a flurry of interactions with men. Older ones. And I've come out of it still single, and glad. The m...
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you can do it! be strong!
unnnnngggghhhhhhnnngghhnnnggh...
You may interpret the above as any one of the following:
1. A Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goon, unseasonably lurking about in July;
2. Sisyphus getting the damn stone rolled over his toe just as it starts to go backward;
3. A Zombie Thing;
4. The noise I make upon waking up and remembering it's a work day;
5. My dying breath as I swing from a light fixture;
6. Constipation.
7. All of the above.
But NEXT Sunday night, you will have HP to read!!!!!!
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