Our friend, Steve, and his dog, Isabella, came to visit me. I don't know where "he" was, I think maybe out poop-scooping...
I am miserable. My legs tremble. I am still not going to stoop to his level of immaturity.
What I finally realize, is that he is not capable of adult conversation.
We've had the "same" conversations several times. Over and over and over, word for word.
Can you imagine?
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