Well, I finally finished that paper on Piers Plowman. It was awful. I can certainly think of quite a lot of things I would have done in exchange for not having to write that damn brain. It was as if some little Pac-man thing was chomping away at my brain/head. I'm surprised that I'm still functioning. It's no wonder my cough is back for the night.
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"Our story begins with a woman named Justine, never a prettier maid there was in the nunnery. With a body so firm and suple, it seemed a shame to commit it to god."
Something like that I think...
As for your mom, I totally understand that. I'm glad you have a dad that understands though.
Next time I see you, bring on the juice! I like *juice*
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