11.09.04 :: 9:41 am

Everyone around me at work has had a death in the family within a week of each other.

I am knocking on wood all day. This shit is creeping me out.

Moo stepped out of bed in the middle of the night and in the dark whispered, "Your heat's not on."

Hello, frigidity.
Welcome back, you old tart.

Stoosh-dog sweaters indicate the sudden influx of Christmas carols. I wish I could hibernate until March.

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