When I saw the calendar this morning, I now know that I wrote April 24th instead of April 23rd, so I was a day off yesterday. I wonder what it was, and now it bothers me.
What do you think it could have been?
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Once I get you on pins and needles at the edge of your seat and you’re nibbling your fingernails down to the quick, that’s when I know for sure that you’ll never look at another man in the whole wide world.
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It’s getting worse than I thought it was!
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Yeah, right! You know I don’t do weed. Who reads those boring manuals anyway? I just climbed aboard and took a wild guess at what all these buttons and dials and switches are for.
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I’m sure some other stimuli must have distracted me . . .
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Hey, wait . . .
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