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about his socks

I’ve finally figured out how to fold them just like he does. Well, almost just like he does, there’s still a bit of an ‘Ann-twist’ to them, but it will do. They are folded, and what’s more, *my* socks are folded as well. My socks haven’t been more than just tossed into the drawer all willy-nilly for years, much to my mother’s disgruntlement. I will say here and now, publicly, that she taught me to fold my socks the right way when I was young. When I turned 20 I had this friend who had this theory about socks and why they shouldn’t have to be folded- and it made such sense at the time. I was ready to make a gaudy sign and picket- somewhere, or get a “FREE THE SOCKS” tattoo (Ann bad idea #7,968) My socks have lived in liberation ever since, but even liberty can be oppressive when you keep losing the silly things, or wearing the same two that float near the top over and over again until they’re worn out. OR, you finally just get tired of feeling all care-free and easy. There needs to be order, somewhere, somehow,  in some way. If the socks lose it- I ask you, where will the rest of us be? I am wearing perfectly matched, knee-length argyle socks, and all is right with the world….

Anywho.

The laundry is done for another week and I have just sent in the last exam for Freelancing 101.

The course is dead. Long live the course.

Actually, long live Three Courses, because that’s how many I’ve just signed up to start in on tomorrow.

I see lots of planning and scheduling in my future, not to mention late night brain meals of oatmeal and popcorn.

Creative Writing 101, Punctuation and Grammar 101, and Writing Basics 101.

Im gonna be the best durned riter y’alls ever seen. You bet.

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..I told you I was wearing cool socks….

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