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Work work work like a jerk jerk jerk

That’s what we used to chant when we were teenagers cleaning our big ancient old kitchen, where eight kids were fed every day and we never had a dishwasher that worked for more than a month or two (we killed them all, in quick succession, no doubt by washing horse buckets and chicken feeders in them when my parents weren’t paying attention). My dad would sometimes put down his Hebrew translation and come over and join in and we’d do a little quick-step around the butcherblock.

I am working like a jerk, my friends. I have some extra pages that will let me put a hundred dollars into the Honour Puppy account so my head is down and I’m flying. I’ll be back up for air after Tuesday. See you then.

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