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reader, writer, unregenerate comma-splicer |
Woke up with a cold staring me in the face like a cat I forgot to feed. Outside, a protest has been going on for two solid hours; my neighbor’s roofers slam their hammers in bone-juddering syncopation; the cars roll by with a constant swish-swish-swish like wind in the pines. At last, enough noise to work by.
It’s a good morning. Cat-cold be damned.