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I assign the sort of bedroom situation in which you look suddenly around you to discover that at some point in the past three weeks, half, at least, of which you've spent out of state, your room exploded.
Okay, so the canvases on my floor are my fault. They never actually found a home. And yes, I set those two bags down when I got home from Vermont. But seriously... where did the rest of this stuff come from?
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