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It began as an ordinary day. There were errands to run, chores to complete, exercise to accomplish. Writing awaited and there was a funeral to attend. Oh ... and there was the newly minted pink streak painted in my hair. I wanted to show my friends what my hairdresser had cajoled me into doing, with the promise I’d be “gorgeous.” My mind raced to arrange a priority list. When all had been checked off, I’d know a sense of fulfillment. Life would be worthwhile.
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