Ten.Five Hundred & Eighty-Five
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3:32. Where is that watch?
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Surely there's no way I'll be able to get back to sleep now.
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Putting butter on toast. A flashback to the small kitchen in Georgia where my grandfather would make toast by putting it in the oven. Sometimes each slice of bread was topped with a piece of very orange cheddar cheese.
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“I dealt with extremes on the other end. I think the hottest I’ve ever felt was 156 degrees in Iraq.” Ah, a vet. I make a note in my head to thank him for his service later.
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I want to see where this road will take me.
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A quick bite at the Mexican restaurant in the strip mall down the street. One chicken, one asada, one el pastor. Plus a chicken tamale please. Margarita with salt on the rim.
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We have a guest staying the night and I am no where near prepared. Work both Friday and Saturday. Where to squeeze in grocery shopping and cleaning and cooking and making the room just right.
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I’m still feeling bad about the plan not working out. But life happens and it’s OK. I know what I can handle and adding one more thing won’t help me much. But I still feel like I’ve disappointed them.
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He boo’d me.
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Maybe I should just try.