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R. took T. to track, then dropped him off at Subway for lunch (T.’s choice. They know him there. They like him there. He has a memorable order and think he is a good kid. Raising a family is so weird.).

After that, R. joined A. and I at Crossroads for brunch. Usually, A. gets the french toast and bacon, but today, she got the cheeseburger. I almost always get the wings and fries, which are a Saturday night special and available for Sunday brunch if they did not run out. And a manhattan. Because I have decided that Sunday brunch is a completely appropriate time to have a cocktail, and I do not see any reason to drink things that give me headaches (bloody marys and mimosas both are prone to giving me a headache) when I can have something that does not. Presumably, this means I am doing it wrong, but I am apparently past caring.

I still need to read the February book group selection for tomorrow.

Beds were stripped and made — I did the first part, and R. helped with the second, which was nice.

I have been thinking a lot about advice, and good advice and bad advice, in the context of a looming epidemic / pandemic that may or may not actually come to fruition. I may get around to posting about it if I can organize my thinking enough to be coherent.

I told Priestess about Love Is Blind, because it seemed exactly like her kind of reality TV catnip (and she does not normally like reality TV, so this is a big deal). And it was. I have been getting updates all weekend, and the convos are The Best Ever.

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