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My dad was a carpenter and most of his friends were carpenters or worked the local lumberyards. At the monthly poker game you could almost count to ten on the half-digits. When he retired, his neighbor was a meat cutter and he had half-digits too. My dad just had one deformed nail from a sliver that gave him blood poisoning. Us kids always joked that dad belonged to a secret club that couldn't count to ten using their fingers.
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