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April 21, 2017
In my imagination, the lady from Michigan is at the end of the bed, crying softly. I have said or done something monstrously inconsiderate, and I curse the day I was born that I should have hurt the feelings of this delicate and sensitive creature. Doesn't she deserve better?

Oh, sweet lady from Michigan, I am so sorry. I don't know the right words to make it all better. We should be in one state, but now we are as two peninsulas separated by a five-mile strait, much like Michigan itself. I am the lower peninsula. The lowest peninsula.