Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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Sprinklers. I knew I should have closed the door.
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Morning gold.
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I must be waking up too late to see the snails.
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We both apologize for sleeping in. I’m too late to do anything too creative for breakfast this morning. I grab a slice of toast and she decides on a mouthful of cherries.
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Grateful that we made the time.
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I remind myself that I don’t have to read anymore of it. Five chapters in and nothing resonating. I can let it go. It’s okay to quit it.
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Close time.
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I’m okay with this being a part of my personality.
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They decide that they’ll pipe the pavlovas onto the parchment paper. Though they are a little brown, they are the best ones she’s ever made.
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Emotional cooking. Emotional eating. Everyone loves this recipe.