wait, really? this is it?
…
Although I’ve mindlessly packed and am now ready to sleep, I’m pretty much still in denial. It really hasn’t sunk in yet.
Tomorrow is just another Sunday at Margit’s house. You’ll go downstairs, and the dogs will greet you as you tell Margit good morning. And then you’ll have work to do and you’ll complain about it to her. But then you’ll procrastinate and get no work done…
Yuh, that’s what will happen. I don’t care what anyone else tells me.
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