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Singing Agathe
I spent nearly 5 hours shoveling on Sunday, because our association president failed to get the snow blower working like he said he would do a month ago. Between work, rehearsal, cleaning up the snow tossed around by plows and inconsiderates, I have not yet recovered.

Light hits my eyes at funny angles. There's too much jump from one second to the next. I dream furiously even before falling asleep. I think of nothing.