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There are holes in the street. Holes in the street and backhoe tracks all over the lawn. Prettiest damn holes I've ever seen.
I have more to say but I also have a child who is doing his best wounded animal impression in an effort to get me to come and get him out of his crib. Woouhooohwuhooooooh. Or something like that.
Some day, I will have the time to sit and write again. Some day soon, even. Maybe.
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