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March 24, 2007
Carl turns from the window, red-faced. At long last, after four months and no significant progress -- a breakthrough. I envision him in a party hat and me blowing a noise-maker.

"I'm sick of chocolate-and-bologna sandwiches," he says.

That's it? But -- oh, wait. What? Chocolate and bologna?

"I only eat them because I want people to consider me the kind of quirky guy who eats weird food. Meanwhile, I dislike chocolate. But I like gummy-bears. And bologna's gross. I like boiled ham."

He whispers, like a confession. I want to tell him that wasting my time is a sin.