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My son disassembled his bunk bed in preparation to get his new mattress in his room. He and I carried the wood from the bed across the road to a field where I will burn it later when we have snow on the ground again. Not quite a workout but I was out of breath.
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The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well. anonymous
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