The Clean Garage

t may not look clean, not exactly.

According to Mr. g.d. Bunker, standing there with his chest all puffed out, proud as an Amish kid with his first bong, it is all taken care of, cleaned up and sorted out. So rejoice &" just quit bitching"already.

Is it so horribly wrong for me to question why, if it's all cleaned out, can I still not park a car in there (four years and counting), or, for that matter, walk through it? In fact the only passage would be by using the ceiling joists like monkey bars & swinging through. Fortunately, I can do that with my toes; one of my more attractive attributes, although difficult if I'm wearing a skirt or carrying groceries. And the damn kids keep falling on their heads, those little assholes.

This is a minor detail which only the harshest of critics would notice, of course. You see, it's not that it's all completely cleaned out and finished, what do I expect a miracle?? However, it may as well be finished and clean, because he has gotten enough boxes and other types of containers that it could easily all be packed up and put neatly away. Duh! Problem solved.

The issue is, of course, that now in addition to all the shit that was in there in the first place there is also a tower of moldy moving crates, cookie tins, and hat boxes, so nothing has really changed. That is unless you're looking through eyes that are supplied by crazy brains, then you can see a beautiful transformation. I guess I've got some serious glue huffing to do.

Here is a random mother with her two glorious children in front of Soldier Field. This was for a little Saturday morning run. The weather was perfect, the course was along the spectacular lakefront, but that didn't help me with the last couple of miles. I was really only (hardly even) ready to run 6 miles, the extra four were some kind of cruel joke.

Unfortunately Mr. Bunker showed up to cheer us on and to reassure me that it's not so much that I'm out of shape, more just that I'm getting old. asshole.

He only came because he heard that they give away a lot of free stuff at the finish line; now he's got some Cliff bars and massage coupons which may now be added to his ever increasing heap-o-shit. He also grabbed up a few t-shirts even though they were not available in fat man sizes; he's planning on loosing a few pounds (so he can find a girlfriend) & expects that they will fit him soon enough.

I finished the dumb race and my legs still feel like they're on backwards. At least my kids were impressed--enough to fight about who got to wear my medal to school today, anyway.

I