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Houston, we have a problem

Houston, we have a problem

Last week I overslept, spent about a minute and half with my house guests, and then ran out the door with my shoes still unbuckled and a list of the one million things I felt I needed to accomplish before 10 am frantically spinning around in my head. On the drive down the hill towards the BART station, I fumbled around in my purse (while keeping my eyes on the road, natch) for my phone.  At the stop sign I…

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