Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Twenty-Five
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Just barely enough sleep.
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Cereal for them. V8 for me. Coffee with oat milk creamer. Tiny cup.
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Life imitating art: the irony of me trying to take a call about the challenges of working mothers while also trying to wrangle the kids into the car to take them to school. Another real-life moment.
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A familiar face that Iām happy to see.
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I reread the pages on pumpovers while I wait for the car to fill up with gas.
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I volunteer to rake so that I can stare out of the roll-top and take in the view of the vineyard and the hillsides in the distance.
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A wave of sadness as I eat my sandwich. That feeling of stuckness, of not knowing what to do next.
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I really want to get into these bins but I have to leave.
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Unexpected space.
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Too tired for ice cream.