So that happened.

I share an office with an old, impossibly tiny nun (like you would expect anything else of me), and the other day I turned around and caught her reading a romance novel at her desk.  Like the real kind, with Fabio on the cover.  This is strange on many levels, but mostly because no one else seems to think so.  This is what passes for normal activity around here.

Clearly I am in the right place.

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