Dear Margaret,
I know you want me on the air today but I've been terribly sick since San Francisco. Last night I mixed cold medicine with Whiskey and ended up staring at the ceiling of my kitchen for atleast half an hour (which I discovered mold and will need to be cleaned with clorox pronto).
The woman I've been messing around with is in my bed and I want her to leave. I've been playing the Grateful Dead's "Touch of Grey" on repeat for half an hour. Isn't that a great hint that I want to be left alone?
Still drunk,
Anne
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