No stuffed animals today, as they'd all been ferried back to the house in some vaguely surreptitious manner last week. Instead, up at the front of the restaurant there was just Sam and a notebook, and a pencil whose eraser end was getting very, very, very chewed up as he attempted to draft some kind of very cranky letter to the Olympic committee
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Fair warning, today may or may not be busy for me, so likelihood of EXTREME SP is . . . let's say it's not nonexistent.
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