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[personal profile] desperance
Well, I dunno. I come in from a thunderstorm - having walked all the way home in it, mark you - sodden to the skinnishness, and are the boys concerned? At all? No, they are not. Their only concern is the lateness of their tea. Which is measurable as one hour. And ten minutes, but they can't count as high as ten.

Bah. *is drippily unloved*

On the other hand, I have written a thousand words and checked 120 pages of the copy-edit, which is no bad working day. Also, I have made a phone-call. I did the same yesterday, which makes about ten minutes of telephone-time over the two days, and you wouldn't believe how much my arm was aching when I hung up. This is not normal, I think? Even for Chaz, who proverbially Does Not Telephone?

Still, it's just confirmation, really. Why one should not telephone. Which is always good to have.

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desperance

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