I think my family is purposely trying to kill me. Or, at the very least, get me to participate in family activities rather than simply write all month long. The appointment we had last night was only going to take an hour, my wife assured me over an over. Three hours later, we were home. π The appointment itself was only ninety minutes long, but the commute each way added another forty-five minutes. Hence the three hours. I guess they weren’t completely misleading me. Not completely. It really didn’t matter whether I was misled or not. The appointment was an important one and I’m glad I was able to be there. I did manage to hit the word count again. […]
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