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Day 114, July 8, 2020

Cleaning HouseToday's Soundtrack: Miles Davis Septet, North Sea Jazz Festival, 7/13/1985

As long as I can remember, my father was a morning person. He was always awake in the morning practicing violin, cooking breakfast, and sweeping the floor. Growing up, we had a white German shepherd named Bonnie. It was inevitable with a very large white dog that there was always the cloudy detritus of the previous day visible on the kitchen linoleum. Add two teenage boys to the mix and there was always something for my dad's broom to find as he wet the edge of a paper towel to stick it to the floor as he picked up the accumulated piles.
In one of the signs of aging, or the advent of adulthood, or just another one of those cosmic forms of trickery, I have found that I too have become a morning person. Somehow, the same person who once struggled to tumble out of bed in time for the school bus and chose to walk instead (and chronically missed homeroom), now wakes before his alarm, reads the ne…

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