Telegram from sickbed

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A white world

SNOW FELL. STOP. MUCH, MUCH SNOW. STOP. WE SLEDDED DURING THE BLIZZARD. STOP. COULD BE THE REASON I SUCCUMBED TO SOME CRUD TODAY. STOP. DAMNIT. EXCLAMATION POINT. TOMORROW I REPORT TO MY DOCTOR AT 8 A.M. FOR STREP TEST. STOP. THINKING OF LEAVING THE HOUSE MAKES ME CRY. STOP. WISH I HAD A CHAUFFEUR ON CALL FOR ONE DAY. STOP. I WILL THEN TRUDGE TO SUBWAY AND WALK TO IMAGING CENTER FOR THE MAMMOGRAM REMATCH AT 12:30. STOP. I MUST HAVE DONE SOMETHING VERY WRONG TO MERIT THIS. STOP.

AND YET I BAKED BREAD TODAY. STOP. IT WAS GOOD. STOP. END TRANSMISSION.

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Bread. No circus, please.

PS: Thanks to my friend J, who I helped with some background research, I learned last week about the Carrington Event of 1859, a massive solar storm. During the height of it, the air was so charged with electricity, telegraph operators noticed their machines stopped working, so they cut power off and sent their transmissions through the charged air, and it worked. Come the next solar storm, I wonder if we’ll be able to text that way?

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