#1,720 Late Birthday. Laurel Mercantile
When I woke up, Ben had already been gone for an hour—back to health and working at the United Methodist men’s playground clean up at the church. By lunchtime he was home, in and out of the shower and we were on our way to New Orleans for a little quick trip for my late birthday (that was originally scheduled for Saturday). In the process, we got word that that rotten, evil virus had found its way to my sweet little 91 year old grandmother.
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