I wanted to vote yesterday but did not make it over to my polling place. My Mom messaged me to let me know that my voting card was ready for pickup. I did not make it over to her place.
Today I am remembering the struggle to cure or get rid of the problem with one of my fingers. When I was young, I had a “whitler” finger that I did not like. I guess I had practice living with things I don’t like.
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