Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Twenty-Nine
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He’s not moving. 
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Let’s see if I can stick to the plan. 
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Less distracting writing a the dining room table instead of my desk. A brightening sky. 
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Focus. 
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Talking on the phone with a familiar voice. Oh, yeah. I do miss this. 
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Chicken Tortilla Soup. I ask him to take a walk. I think of the last job and how they integrated different types of meetings as an option in the Outlook calendar. My last meeting was a walking meeting. Way more productive than a seated meeting. 
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Sore all over and it’s not from the yoga. 
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Late. 
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We’re all struggling. 
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“I’m trying to respect your boundaries.”