The other day I caught myself about to say the following to someone I love very much: You need to dry your feet so you don’t track water all over my clean floors. I didn’t say it, obviously; I choked it back in horror and crept into a cave for several days to reflect on how things had gotten this bad without my realizing it – how on earth I could have turned into the type of person who refers to something as as unlovable and quotidian as a floor as something that could ever be
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