Friday, May 16, 2014


I was cleaning out the little shop truck the other day. We've only had it for a few years but it has already started to sag on its springs as a result of all the crap everyone is throwing in it. McDonald's bags, coffee cups, breakfast and lunch trays and loads of receipts and spare change.

As I dug around and excavated the under-side of the passenger's seat, I was finding more and more loose change all glued to the floor with milky coffee residue and sticky... for want of a better word... dog-hair-covered soda jerky.

I'm also unearthing screws, nails, tools, tie-downs, zip-ties and broken brake light bulbs.

I sent a text to the owner's son-in-law saying "I am keeping the money I find, to help defray the cost of my inevitable tetanus shot."

I was thinking This is probably where typhoid comes from. I am about to start the zombie apocalypse from touching this old wad of gum, combined with whatever this black goop is on the underside of the seat. What is that?!?! Why is it all over my arms now? It's like I can't feel it but I can see it. Oh God, now it's on my pants. I sure hope this comes off in the wash.

And on it goes. Cleaning is not my forte anyway. I mean it's not like I have ever really found out what my forte was or even what one is... but I have found out a LOAD of things that are not it.

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