One of the more grim tasks I ever perform involves flowers. My father passed away two years ago, and I don't live close enough to visit his grave very much. So I order a flower service to place flowers on his grave 12 times each year. It was time to renew the service this past week, and nothing is quite as grim as seeing my father's "address" listed as a plot number in the "Hope" garden.

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Tonight is my first Monday night off in ages, and the Monday Night Football game sucks. Sigh.