Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety
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Ready for mornings with the fireplace aglow.
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Bats.
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Thanksgiving is creeping up, which means Christmas is, too. I am not ready.
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Early. Just me and the quiet. Dark offices. Spilling my half-oat-milk-half-coffee all over my desk. Clickity clack of the keyboard.
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Soft.
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I want it to be better.
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Dare I say what is missing is feminine leadership?
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Window-down weather.
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I count eight today. I will be missing two or three tomorrow. Eight is not enough.
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She says more words to me in those five minutes than I heard all last season and I am shocked. Pleasantly surprised. Maybe everything will be okay afterall.