Not Really Close, Just Close Enough

I suppose it had to happen sooner or later.

Today, after years of avoidance, I actually had to get up early on Black Friday again.  Fortunately, it was for reasons unrelated to Black Friday, but it still made me shiver in horror, like the idea of being in Hiroshima on August 5, 1945.

Nothing terribly momentous I admit, but enough that I felt like commiserating the day.

(No, that’s not a typo.  I hate Black Friday, and I weep for those who must work it.)


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