....my mother and my grandmother--my mother and my grandmother--ship John Lennon and Paul McCartney. They did it back when they were watching it happen. My nephew is trying to sing We Can Work It Out and he's not getting the words but he's got the melody line down.
My mother today in a perfectly ordinary car on the way to the pharmacy sighed and talked about their meant-to-be'ness.
My life, what is this, how is this, what?
*lies down*
Two more days of work. Two more days and I am free like the wind, or at least, more free, less homicidal. When this is over, oh man there will be an entry on my rage. Oh the rage. And the entry.
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