I can sit on top of the family room couch for hours on end, watching out the window for those pesky squirrels running across the top of the fence. I just can't figure out how to catch one. If I could only climb trees. If only I were only a bit taller. If only these were ground squirrels.
David is always complaining about missing socks. I think all men must have a drawer full of mismatched socks. It's one of life's greatest mysteries. Where do they go? While there are many theories, I think this mystery has been solved.
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