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My private refuge

It's a very hot day. I'm hot—but not in the way one would like to be hot.

I think it is the hottest day yet this year. This kind of day zaps any evidence of ambition that may have been dwelling in my cells and grinds said enthusiasm to dust.

There are many chores barking orders at me. “Pick me, pick me,” they shout, almost too loud to ignore. Almost.

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