Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Four
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Monday. Here you are.
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I put my feet in the slippers and make my way over to the plants as safely as possible. Stepping on a slug is inevitable. But I just want to make sure I don’t step on a snail. I’ve already been traumatized by the loud crunch beneath my feet too many times.
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I sit at the desk and make a plan for the day.
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He takes over the office. I didn’t plan for this.
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Plums and peaches and apricots and a bottle of wine on the floor. I should work on my styling.
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Therese Nelson in conversation with Monica White.
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He says that nothing happens unless women are involved. That two men talking can’t get anything done. Women do the work.
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No focus.
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Finally, we get to talk.
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I taste the jam: a little tart, a little sweet. I pour a little into a small jar for the winemaker.
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Fish tacos with pico de gallo and crema. The only way they could taste better is if I made the tortilla myself.
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I tell her I wish I could carry her in my pocket to be my hype woman.