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So there I was… naked, running with scissors…

Stompy.  I was SOOOOOO stompy.  Throwing blankets and sheets down to be washed.  Stomp.  Stomp.  Stomp.  David and Rissa exchanging “What the hell is happening?” looks below in the kitchen. The panic had beset me while still in bed.   I’d looked up at the ceiling with the skim coat of drywall compound taunting me –…