Man, that truck missed me by a very uncomfortably close margin. That's like the fifth time I've almost been mowed down today. I know I keep complaining about my damn job, but I'm getting too old for this. And because I've always had this desire to, you know, actually GET older, I'm going to have to finally quit once and for all.
Of course, there's the issue of what I'll do next. I've always wanted to sell ice cream. The money sucks, and the margins are razor thin, but hey, at least I'd be bringing happiness to people. Frozen happiness that slowly melts away and then is gone, with a finality like a door slamming shut. No, forget that, I don't want that job.
What about working at a movie theater? I'd get to see free movies. And I'd be bringing happiness to people there, too. Oh wait. What about the crowds on opening night? And that popcorn, with the disgusting imitation butter? I'd probably gain a ton of weight from chowing down all the time on junk food. Forget that job too.
Ah well. I do this every week it seems. This job sucks, but at least I'm outside, on the streets, feeling the vitality of the city, along with its fumes, of course. But it could be worse. So I guess I'll stick around in this street sweeping job for a while.
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