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It looks like spring in winter.
In other newsβ¦ We had a storm yesterday, Eunice. My little house creaked and moaned, but it survived. Little damage to my belongings, since I donβt have much. π
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Currently reading: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith πSurely, an accurate historical account πβ¦π§ββοΈπ
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I got this running injury a few weeks ago, and am clawing my way back to some kind of training regime. I also gained 10 kg (22 lbs) in two months. It looks like there won’t be a marathon for me in April. Like that’s a surprise. Marathons are the bane of my existence.
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As an empty sheet is perfection for both artist and writer, the only way to win with wordle is not to play, averting addiction. Still NOT playing, resisting temptation like a game teatotaller.
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I wonder, do people still write personal letters, pen on paper, longhand, sealed in an envelope? I used to, as a youth. I was never good at it, but better than talking, because we didn’t talk at the dinner table as a family, especially not about personal stuff, ever.
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