So I'm sitting here eating my mango ice cream, which has turned to soft-serve in our less-than-freezing freezer (old-world charm no longer suffices and so we must search for lodging less leaky), and I suddenly remember the moment a few nights ago when I realized that Reconstruction Site was giving me goosebumps. I half-wonder if that moment has
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We should indeed "hang out." As the kids say. When will you be around this week? I am, for the most part, crafting sandwiches for assholes, or cleaning the apartment (soon there will be no germs at all! And all sixteen locks will have been properly turned thrice) but I'm sure there's an empty spot in there somewhere.
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