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I’m finding it a little more difficult than usual to bang out this week’s column because my hand and forearm are smarting after I got stung by a swarm of wasps this past Sunday.
Here’s what happened: I worked myself into a tizzy worrying about my house back in South Carolina, so I decided to drive up and check on it in person, just to give myself some peace of mind. When I got there, I walked up to my front porch, exactly the way I did when I lived there, and pulled open the storm door, as had been my routine.
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