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| | | | | | I arose on the dreary morning of saturday with high hopes of extravagent uprisings. My preluding ideas were harshly mistaken, as I sat up and promptly struck my cranium on the night stand. Abashed by my actions, I scurried into my bethroom, snatching up a wash cloth and allowing water to cascade upon its absorbant boundaries. After the peak absorbancy of the cloth was met, I began dabbing the stricken area of my head, soothing the crimson abbrasion that had been bestowed upon me. After curing my unlucky injury, I found my way down my matured oak staircase into my kitchen and began preparing my morning feast. I Prepared a rather unfilling meal of poached eggs and bacon. Upon devouring my morsels, I paroused the New York Times, Which I have delivered to my house in Massachusetts. Upon further investigation of my paper, I noticed a rather amusing article consisting of information reguarding one museum in Boston that featured glamorous works of art from far reaches of the planet. Catching my immediate interest, I completed my breakfast, opened my garage, entered my rather expensive Aston Marton, and followed the quite detailed directions to this museum. I payed my entry toll and Commenced viewing the works of art inside this vast mausoleum of delectable artworks. | | |   | | |
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