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I've been thinking about something this week. Why do we wait for summer to become the version of ourselves we seem to like most? The one who laughs a little louder. Sleeps a little better. Actually uses the good patio furniture. Orders dessert without negotiating like it’s a peace treaty. Somewhere along the way, we decided joy was seasonal. I'm not sure that's true. Maybe summer doesn't change us at all. Maybe it simply reminds us of someone we've been too busy to spend time with...ourselves.
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