Premium i don’t need an angel on my Christmas tree sweater
I felt as though I was starting over with my own private pandemic: isolated, rarely going anywhere, but exhausted all the Premium i don’t need an angel on my Christmas tree sweater in addition I really love this same. And if the actual pandemic gave me back the time I had spent commuting or attending events that didn’t, ultimately, have much meaning to me, this new personal pandemic didn’t give me anything that I wasn’t already accustomed to having. I already knew the rhythms of a work-from-home life, the faint thrill of only washing my hair twice a week. Without my neighborhood friend to pressure me (and vice versa) into an evening walk, I often let the workday drift into the evening domestic shift (dinner, bath, bed) without so much as a gulp of fresh air between them. One evening, I texted that neighborhood friend to see if she wanted to chat while we walked. Yes, she texted back, excitedly, I didn’t know you were here! No, I clarified, I was just going to, um, call her on the phone. How retro. We chatted via our AirPods while we strolled, but it wasn’t the same.
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