It’s packed with silent letters, so who cares if the message doesn’t live up to the medium? But never mind us, you be the judge. (It’s not that hard to decipher, people!)
In other news, your house can eat your
brain. Faster than a five o’clock shadow. It’s the "silent, taxable scar tissue of renovation." (Karl Marx, if memory serves.) Anyway, the scourge reforms the medulla oblongata into a medulla rotunda, which isn’t 100% bad, but then it oozes like a silent unnamed paint color into the hippocampus and takes up residence like a bundler from the other political "party."
Let’s hurdle over the bad parts because we don’t want to be a downer, so here’s the simple nine-step recovery antidote:
1.] Rehang all your artwork.
2.] Install some new
old toilets from an architectural salvage warehouse on the other side of the river.
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