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While I was mowing the lawn, my wife made a skirt for my daughter.

A skirt

Sure, it takes a long time to write a novel, and it requires a modicum of creativity and skill. 

But she made a skirt. 

Just whipped it out like it was nothing.  Then she made two more.

And another as a gift.

I don’t know why we ever need to buy clothing again. 

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