I was talking to my mother the other day about how I have more free time than I had before in NY, and yet I seem to have less time to actually do things. Blaming this on the fact that I have about a gazillion interests that I can never say no to, my mother then told me about how even as a little kid I would be playing with a truck, book open in front of me, while sitting down watching Seasame Street on the TV. She said that she never had to worry about me running away because I always had my nose in something. Which is pretty much me in a nutshell now. Same pile of crap around me, just the material has changed.

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