I imagine my leg saying, "You didn't have to cut me off."
I mean, my leg and I had a pretty long history together. We'd been together as long as I can remember, and I spent 11 years letting my life revolve around that limb, so I'd be pretty mad at me if I were my leg.
For the record, though, I gave my leg a proper goodbye:
My sister drew that with Sharpies! |
All my friends at camp signed it goodbye. |
And even if it wanted to, it can't, because it's dead.
And I don't miss it.
Sorry I'm not sorry |
Answer: Spanish short story final paper. You can move forward a space if you were reading my blog and thus procrastinating with me.
Question: What test am I supposed to be studying for right now instead of writing this blog post?
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