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October 30, 2004
My head aches, and my soul is sore. My daughter Amanda pulls the Vibe into the driveway as the wind blows leaves, boxes, and t-shirts across the lawn. A runaway basketball makes a drive down the street. Maybe it is the dental work I had yesterday? The day before? It must be yesterday. Today is Saturday. My calendar says so. But that doesn't explain the sore soul. The wind doesn't explain it. My daughter doesn't, and neither does the calendar. Still, the calendar seems the most likely explanation, and I look at it, at it's neat lines, and self-confident logic.