M is for “meeting(s).”
M is for “myriad maniacal morons in big-ass SUVs on I-40.”
M is for “Monday.”
But at least I managed not to spend the weekend dwelling on an anniversary I didn’t particularly want to remember. Instead, I explored Charlotte with Carroll on Saturday and spent Sunday eliminating things that no longer belong in my life. The latter sounds all mysterious and philosophical and shit, but it pretty much just means “cleaning out the basement.”
