Meeting Notes: Potentially Hot Potato

A propensity for women’s dresses: is everything in place? My projection had been tight — something usually happens, a little skewed. The clock stopped. We just need one more fucking bus; they take so long. We were snarking, principally, harder and harder, a burden medieval, and forgot to ask you.

Serving elsewhere is just funny! There’s one glitch: the committee members are in a relationship with chairs. It’s tricky: who’s on what? Piggyback something, give them heads. The retreat is all changed; it’s done and it’s not. Adding something to something is a small tweak, but that guy is awesome!

We haven’t balanced; we waited until we knew there was a problem. (Mommy calls most of us most of the time.) This new system for chaos helps to arrange it: four different systems, delegated as something, analgous. We can chew on it if you want, a timeline, a chart, a de facto segregation. We should feel. It’s a selling point! We’re thinking to think, we inhabit fall and spring, fall and spring.

I copied you, I blind-copied you. I wrote, you wrote. Yes, I am involved, we think: potentially hot potato. Agree that this makes sense: the rubric, the knight, the technicalities, the plaque, the palace. Our difficulty is location: a well in the fields devoted to homework. Our hands are both pulling the strings.

Come to closure. Get eaten by the melon.

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