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cup of coffee

White Noise Revisited

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As those of you who read this blog with any frequency know that I’m usually pretty positive. Those days have changed. I’ve become a conspiracy theorist. No, really, I have.

Voice, Stilled

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This post is written by Roomie, who sits at Winston’s desk, fingers on his keyboard, right hand on his mouse, next to a half cup of coffee that he started to drink last Friday morning. The white cup has a picture of a bucking bronco on it, a cowboy waving his whip as he moves with the zest of life. A nasty film is beginning to form on the surface of the coffee.

Fears Of My Demise…

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In the previous episode, extreme trepidation was evident as I prepared for a plunge into the dark side. This morning about half way through my second cup of coffee, a little voice spoke to me and said, Do it. Do it now.

Good Morning

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I stayed up way too late last night looking at houses on Realtracs and I got up way too early this morning because I couldn’t sleep wanting to look at houses on Realtracs.

I’m busy compiling a list of things I do and don’t want in a house.

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