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Polymorphism

still in evidence

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polymorphism

still in evidence

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Last night was rough.

I'm going through all my receipts, for household accounting purposes.

I've done a good job of not losing them - which means I have the receipts for my purchases of C's birthday gift, C's Christmas gift, and receipt after receipt for those weekly breakfast outings - we took turns picking up the check, so I've got about a dozen of them.

Why should receipts hit me so hard?  I don't know.  Maybe because the whole thing is an exercise in looking at the paper remnant and remembering what I spent my money on, and why.  I had already been thinking about what I'd want to know, if I were able to ask it.  Maybe my mind was just primed for the subject.

Life might be easier if bad endings DID twist my remembrance of what went before.  The closure I have is like chewing aspirin - it's no less good for me than if I swallowed it whole, but it's bitter, bitter, bitter.

Later in the evening, I spent some time chatting with a new acquaintance.  The conversation was largely about having friends die - she had a close friend succumb to AIDS a decade and a half ago.  Somehow, this did not cheer me up.  Also, she reminds me of T, though I think that will lessen as we talk more.
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