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Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog: The Amazing Adventures of an Ordinary WomanI always feel a little bummed out on Sunday nights. Sunday night is the Labor Day of the week, if you follow. ItБЂ™s as if the weekend = summer, and Monday = fall. This makes no sense, again, because I work on Sunday, the same as I do on Monday. So why do I dread Monday, on Sunday night? Why do I dread fall, at the end of summer? Why do I feel this way? My days donБЂ™t change one iota. Daughter Francesca thinks she knows the answer, and she weighs in, below: Well, Mom, thatБЂ™s not exactly true, your days from summer to fall do change in one respect: me. Sure, you havenБЂ™t been in school in a long time, but for almost two decades, I have. For the last sixteen years, just being my mother has put you on some version of the summer vacation schedule. Although I realize that, for you, it may not have always been such a vacation-driving me to day camp when I was little, watching me attempt the perfect dive for the 100th time in a day, later on, teaching me how to make the drive down to Ocean City by myself, or, most recently, giving in to my insistence that summer is the perfect time to get two kittens ...» |
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