My cat broke my lymph node.
Lymph nodes
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Writer (nonfiction, fiction, poetry, music)
My cat broke my lymph node.
These are the tests: global, personal. Not math, thank goodness.
To this day I am tickled that years ago, in a coffee bar in Amsterdam, my own dealer/seller suggested that I stop smoking my beautiful first ever marijuana serving. We had smoked less than ½ of one joint.
Maybe anorexics in quarantine with family do the dishes more frequently so they can chuck their uneaten food in the trash before others have time to notice.
That pasta will probably be there indefinitely, unless the pandemic “shelter in place” lasts like five years. Have you ever tried gluten free pasta? It’s disgusting.
We defrost our freezer. We eat soy ice cream. I invent Cobweb toilet paper.
I don’t even know what the “Paragraph” choices are, a clear indicator of how often I use them. Which is never.
Never sell your instrument.
Dreaming of Eggs Benedict and avoiding Russian spies.
Jackson Avery’s mother should have let him go into modeling.