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It gets better . . .

The highlights of the evening included hanging onto a stop sign for awhile before I was able to make my way across the street to an event I'd looked forward to attending.  I congratulated myself for making it through the front door before I had to sit down.   The ticket taker brought me tea while I waited an hour or so for the presentation that took place in an adjoining room to end, gritting my teeth through a half dozen more spasms. 

Here's the funny part.  There was a baby grand piano just inside the front door.  As I clung to a friend's arm, I collapsed again, this time striking a rather dissonant chord on the piano with my butt cheek.

Fallen autumn leaves and fluffy white snowflakes are lovely to look at but convince me God invented machinery for a reason. 

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Don't knock it.  Just

Don't knock it.  Just remember the exact chords your posterior struck.  There's a fortune to be made from modern, atonal, classical music :–)

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Unfortunately, quite a few people will remember those chords

I think I'll avoid events at that venue for awhile . . .

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Good to find the humor in an

Good to find the humor in an uncomfortable situation. Hope you're feeling better!