I spent the day yesterday moving into a Confederate
state. Without ever leaving my building I clocked 16K steps.
By 1730, I had connectivity and DVR, found enough sheets
and blankets to make my bed and ordered delivery pizza, which you can eat
without knives and forks. (I have yet to unpack the cutlery, although I did
find the compostable paper plates I nicked from my employer for exactly this
purpose six years ago.)
I also have been mainlining Naproxen.
Well—it’s a start.
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