In lieu of dotted eyes, I've been considering ceasing the circles. Nothing too dogmatic-- those deciders always lose to rhetorical confines; posing as ultimatums marred and easily knocked over like a cheap green pedestal.
But it's a considerable cause for cessation. And with a mustard packet (couldn't find the relish), I'm nonetheless eager. It's a grandy gloat to roam over.
Quitting does win.
On Sundays, perhaps!
(chastise spools for pool comport)
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