I was preparing to issue a complaint to you, dear Tumblr. I was ready to enquire as to when my life became so dull that my Saturday evenings play out at home as I lie in bed, alone, with a bottle of Pinot Noir, whilst gangs of surely disregardful youths outside my window disrupt a quiet hour of reading. … However, I admit my grievance is somewhat without cause, as I am reminded that it is, in fact, Sunday evening. I am aware of this now because, as it turns out, the intrusive chatter in question was the result of a radio left on in the kitchen — presumably by me — and the BBC has been kind enough to elucidate on the subject of today’s date. In light of this discovery, I shall withhold my lament and remain calm. Carry on.
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