Maybe I'll get some new things Easter, but they won't appear right away.
Yesterday's high temperature tied a record set in 2006. I don't remember anything about 2006. I don't think I'm missing anything. I've kept a journal since the early eighties. It's filled many volumes since then, so, if I'm interested, I could look up 2006. I even put a title on that journal: "The True History of My Adult Life". I've destroyed some early volumes because I felt such disgust and impatience with the person I was then. I don't want to be reminded. No one apart from myself will ever be able to read that journal, because my handwriting is like hieroglyphics-- and there is no Rosetta Stone. Indecipherable. Hopeless.
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