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03-17-02 - 9:52 a.m. I guess you could say I had a St. Patrick's Day celebration. Without the alcohol, of course. I had to work last night and as I was finishing up, I called Rob and told him he was taking me out dancing. Real dancing, not that club shit. So I met him at home a little while later, I changed into my swing dress, he into pants and a collared shirt, and I made him wear my fedora, and we headed out to a swing club I know of. Swing dancing is not dead. You just have to know where to find it. Rob isn't a dancer, but actually, that's half the fun of dancing with him. If he doesn't know what to do, he improvises because he's not in the least bit afraid to make a fool of himself. We were the youngest couple there. He was really afraid I'd do something that would cause a miscarriage and made me take breaks fairly frequently. He has been extremely overprotective lately. He thinks I'm working too much, and maybe I am, but somebody has to around here and I've got the highest-paying job. My cat is breathing really loudly and it's bugging the crap out of me. I just told her to shut up. She just stared at me.
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