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February 13, 2002
We spent our time sifting through loads of used goods. Old dresses, piles of toys. All looked to be junk. But according to the dozens of people frantically going through this unorganized mess, it was hidden treasures. Dig deep enough and there might be gold.

Somewhere in there she dropped the bomb.

An ex, who I rarely talk with, has a huge apartment, great boyfriend and will soon have a wedding. Or so that’s the word. He’s breaking his lease, getting down on one knee, proposing and will so be co-habitating with her. It stung for days. And it shouldn’t.