Did I ever tell you the story of how we were running errands and I was in my sweat pants and John decided we should go to dinner to real fancy place like Applebee's (ok, as fancy a place where he could order a steak and I could still be wearing my sweatpants) and I only agreed on the condition that I got to buy a bra so I wouldn't be bra-less and
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Oh, by the way, I emailed you back a few days ago. I'm just letting you know in case you didn't get it or something, because you're usually really fast about replying. If you have it and just haven't gotten around to it, that's totally fine. This is just my way of letting you know I'm not ignoring you if the internets ate my email.
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I did get your email! I didn't have time to respond immediately, and this is when I get to quietly admit that if I don't respond to emails immediately, I immediately forget about them. BUT I actually saw yours this morning and told myself I would write back to you when I get home tonight. Which I totally might. I also plan on taking the dogs for a walk again. And I might do that too.
With any luck, my recently unemployed boyfriend will have the house clean and dinner ready when I get home. I'm guessing that's probably not going to happen.
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Upon getting in the car I realized it was a clasp in front, rather than the traditional behind the back clasp, and it had 3 hooks. 3 sharp hooks that dig into my chest. And it was definitely NOT the size it advertised.
Yet, even armed with this knowledge this morning, I thought "Eh, it wasn't that bad." I imagine this is a smaller-scale version of how the pain of child birth is remembered.
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