I owe you: You made me actually leave the house. And eat a homecooked meal. (Did you know I haven't cooked at all this past week? I haven't turned on the stove. I haven't bought any groceries. I have subsisted on tomatoes from the employee garden at work, cottage cheese and protein drinks. And "Grey's Anatomy" on DVD.) And you made me dance to silly reggae music in a dim bar with a drunk girl visiting from New York, a restaurant manager and your neighbor. Bless your heart.
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