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In Which I Go From Negative to Positive in Tone
One wedding completely reworked because of a fuck-wad still-priest with issues.
Two meals eaten today.
Three, number of people in my family: yay!
Four fingers on my left hand that still are not limber enough for proper chording.
Five chicken strips (that comprised my two meals).
Six strings on my guitar which while I still suck at my instructor still has faith that I can suck less eventually.
Seven. God is seven. Thank you Frank Black.
Eight days until we leave on a train for Portland in the middle of the night.
Nine dollars and seventy-two cents was the cost of my lunch yesterday.
Ten is the age when Rona will be allowed to have beer.
Two meals eaten today.
Three, number of people in my family: yay!
Four fingers on my left hand that still are not limber enough for proper chording.
Five chicken strips (that comprised my two meals).
Six strings on my guitar which while I still suck at my instructor still has faith that I can suck less eventually.
Seven. God is seven. Thank you Frank Black.
Eight days until we leave on a train for Portland in the middle of the night.
Nine dollars and seventy-two cents was the cost of my lunch yesterday.
Ten is the age when Rona will be allowed to have beer.
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And I'd guess it worked: the conversations in my head this morning do not typically end in cartoon-like violence.
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