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congested ramblings

3 Mar

Sitting at my desk with a mug to my face and too many hours left in the workday to even count, I contemplate pho for dinner, or something warm and comforting. If I’m coming down with a cold, I hope it passes soon. It’s in my nose now. My voice is tired and hoarse enough that I’ll send emails instead of phone Rob downstairs, who reads my blog now and will say something about this. I wonder what he knows, what anyone knows, or how private a person I really am if I document my life like this online. And it’s fine. I mean, it only bothers me that no one else I know writes about the minutiae of each day like I do, like we all used to on Xanga after school while sitting on AIM waiting for specific someones to say hey, just hey, and not worry that when he does, you’ll have to think of something more to say. I bought a Hydro Flask the other night, and it will be here by the end of the week. I’m concerned about carrying it and what it means that I will, that I have one now, and it’s really not important to me that my water is cold.

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