The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
Falling to Pieces (Central Jersey Style)
I feel like I'm living in some tri-state, upper-middle class version of a country song: yesterday we put the dog down; while I was digging his grave in the backyard, I ran into some drainage pipes and an old slate patio-- making the excavation far more difficult than I imagined; my oldest son has had the shits for three days, my youngest son can barely walk (due to a Sunday afternoon soccer collision) and while I was rushing home from work today to check on my sick son and then drive him to the orthodontist (despite his stomach ailment) I got a text from a colleague that read: "Did you leave? We have a meeting and you are presenting."
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A New Sentence Every Day, Hand Crafted from the Finest Corinthian Leather.
2 comments:
When sorrows come, they come not in single spies but in battalions.
so true . . . i love the branagh montage when claudius says that.
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