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Diaries Mississippi The South

Sundays in Mississippi are the worst place to be in the world probably.

For me, at least. ๐Ÿ™‚ ๐Ÿ™

It’s like a dead day. A day of death, a lost day…. A day of nothingness, just a void to be filled with whatever you can do to ease your mind. I never thought Mondays would excite me as much as they do until I came here by way of practicality, frugality, and stinginess. . . . Because EVERYBODY is awake on MONDAY! :-)))))) But not really, or so I’m told, because, the party didn’t end on Saturday, when the city-folk probably would have drawn their line in the sand and then used Sunday to brush off the doldrums. No, Sunday is a party day, apparently! On which so much excitement and joy is squeezed out of the flock that they can’t bear to make Monday a real, honest-to-goodness, one-hundred-percent workday, on which things actually need to happen, in tangible reality, in concrete truth.

I’ll finish this later. I have a new project to work on and it can’t come a moment too soon! :-)))))) Stay tuned!

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By hourback

I'm a father, musical, philosophical, virtually vegan, ethical, trying to be present and mindful.

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