My boss got a last minute spot at a trade show today. My boss is one of the least organized people on the face of the earth and she recruited two of the most annoying women on the face of the earth to help out. My head might explode before this day is out. Wish me luck 
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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