Okay, I over ranted a little yesterday. Things turned out fine, although it does take 4 whole hours to get to Tamarack. But it was a beautiful day and A went with me and M & The Asshole got there at the same time we did. And (hell has frozen over, be prepared) The Asshole gave me some money. So I feel guilty for ranting and raving so much. Bonus: on the way back we stopped for gas & across the street was this spooky little old graveyard. Most of the graves were from 1830 - 1890, including a bunch of Civil War ones AND most of them were named Brown. That's The Asshole's last name. In fact there was one with his whole name (except a different middle initial) who died in the war. Synchronicity, yeah. I feel kind of weirdly guilty now, although it's difficult to believe that somebody with his name dying 100 years before I was born is connected to my being angry yesterday. But on the other hand, everything is possible. Ah strangeness.
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