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Wear 381: Yellow or Pink: Or Both?

I have lost my self-control. I mean, the place is a mess. Our roof blew off. It took a lot of time to fix it. They weren't happy with a few final things. They said they would come back. We didn't believe them. (We were right.) But still everything is still in a pile. And I'm sure that my self-control is in that pile somewhere.

I'm getting around to reading The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleansing. I like the idea of pretending I'm dead and looking at my house, seeing it through the eyes of those left with the duty of working out what the hell all this stuff is. Maybe that is not what the book is about, but that's where its title leads my imagination. When someone finds my self-control, after my obviously untimely (and likely messy and/or awkward) demise, they'll probably think it is some sort of mean, shrivelled nut; useless, weak and tired.

I promised I wasn't going to buy any clothes. Any. For a year. I have been on two op shop (thrift store/c…

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