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📓 Saturday, November 15, 2025 — 8:05 a.m.
My dad makes me laugh.
He’s terrified of the rain.
He tells me,
“Está lloviendo fuerte… don’t go out, don’t get wet. We’ll go sell somewhere later.”
And I’m standing there like,
“Bro, why would I just clean up to sit here and do nothing?”
He goes,
“Yeah, but it’s raining now.”
And I’m like,
“I KNOW it’s raining — I still gotta go make money.”
I’m not even planning to be outside long today because I’m sick and this cough is beating my ass.
But I still gotta move.
Business doesn’t pause just because the clouds decided to cry a little harder.
And he keeps going:
“I’ve been up since 5. I told you to be quick and come back. With this weather… we’re alive, mijo.”
You can’t tell him shit.
He worries, but his logic is wild.
Still… it’s funny. He’s funny.
And being sick in this weather is dangerous, so I get where he’s coming from.
But rain or not — I still gotta move.
Gotta go sell those plastic bag cases.
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