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May 10, 2007
I sat on the couch and wrote in my journal, curled into a ball. "Well today I finished up setting up my network on careerbuilder and monster.com," It said. Then I paced around my coffee table to make myself tired. Kicked it across the room. Threw things at my lamp. Now the pane of glass where I usually rest my feet is missing, allowing my legs to slip through close the floor--putting the table into a 'leg-lock' if you will. A sappy phone call then ensued, followed by endless tub scrubbing until I could take it no longer and succomb to sleep. Why me?