stress
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I once, according to my dad’s telling of the tale, came downstairs from my room, obtained a jar of jam from the refrigerator, took a spoon from the silverware drawer, and started to eat jam directly from the jar. When Dad questioned me, and asked what I was doing, I became defensive. Whatever was happening
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Yesterday was too much. In fact, the too much started the day before, and I didn’t do a good job of mitigating it at the outset. But who is great at mitigating, really? On Thursday, when I took the bus to the doctor, there was so much chaos. There was a woman who insisted her