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Smiling Like a Paper Airplane
Just Maggie
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Weather you are gorgeous,
Heh, I mean Flawless.

Seriously, today is one of the most beautiful days I can remember. Maybe that's just an Irish sparkle catching in my eye though.

First thing I did at the townhouse when I got back last night was to begin refreshing my room. I reminded myself of my chubby scruff gerbil and how she is always turning over her bedding. I'm glad she does it though; keeps her cage fresher longer.
I decided that the bookshelves my WWII Veteran grandpa made for me weren't cutting it anymore. Don't mistake me for being ungrateful, because I love the shelves (they're hunky, heavy, and sagging in the middle (just the touch of ugliness I crave)). They are stuck in my closet though, weighing too much for me to even nudge a little. And since they're in the closet, they are a perfect candidate to harbor my excess shirts that don't fit anymore, but I'm too clingy to let go of. I'll just drop the book and call them shelves.
That excess title of book has been placed in front of a new set already. The lady that lived here before my mom and I left us some furniture she thought we could use (she was too lazy to throw it out). Among the red filing cabinet and semi-african inspired paintings, she gave us a black iron baking rack. This thing is tall and spacey and lanky and simply perfect for me. I (meaning mostly Skyler) brought it up to my room, slapped on a fraction of my books and journals, and renamed it a bookshelf. With this, my water-stained cardboard writing box has expanded into a writer's corner.

I am going to do the unthinkable today: exercise.

Scrabuffling away now!
Ta-ta!

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