I've sat here for over an hour now, staring at the box and trying to convey thought through my fingertips to explain why I left and why I would come back now. There's no easy explanation and I could throw a hundred reasons at you, but they'd all be secondary right now. Let's just leave it at what it is. I came back. I never stay away for very long
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First of all, I'm going to chalk that up to bad wording and not jump down your throat just yet. Second, that's no way to keep somebody, or even get somebody, by guilting them into staying with you. It's not the way I do things. Third, my current situation was much a surprise to me as anyone else, so that being said, I'll regale you with the fabulous story sometime. It's not really interesting so much as fast paced and head turning. Could make a good action movie, I think.
The truth is, I forgave you a long time ago. Still, the apology is appreciated and accepted. I could always use more friends, you know? I'm just relieved the villagers can now stop rioting outside my house, and blaming me for your disappearance. Ha.
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Haha, there were villagers? I was hoping they'd all go over to Carmen's and leave you alone.
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Man, I thought they were kidding when they said they wanted my head on a pike. The upside, I've learned to sleep with one eye open. Maybe they've split into too groups and rioting at her place as well. I'd check but I'm kinda afraid to go outside.
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How's that changed your quality of sleep with the one eye open? It sounds like you'd only get half as much. You shouldn't be afraid of them. I think they just want an autograph and to ask you out, since you're not Mrs. Lance Armstrong.
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You'd think, right? Nah. I still manage to get a good 12 hours because that's what us old people need along with a cane and dentures. Ha, well, they're out of luck. I'm really thinking of giving back into the hype since he keeps calling every day.
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Oh right, I keep forgetting that you were around to watch the Magna Carta being signed and Franklin invent electricity with a key and his kite. On the next holiday, I'll get you one of those Rascal scooters to help you get around. I was under the impression you'd already moved on from almost being Mrs. Tour de France.
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What the hell is a Rascal scooter, and I'm going to ignore the small notion I'm having that I should know this. Whatever. I never technically was going to be Mrs. Tour de France. But I don't need to tell you about over the top publicity stunts. You know.
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