Good thing I’m self-motivated
The truck trundles up the street as I load the children into the stroller. As I snap the last buckle, it pulls up in front of our house, and the driver hops down. Nodding at the stroller, he comments,
“That’s a helluva job.”
It’s not an unusual reaction, so I’m able to reply with a grin. “It sure is, but I love it!”
“It would drive me crazy!”
I’ve had this exchange, or some variant of it, with dozens of people over the years. To date, though, they’ve been grinning right back at me. While they couldn’t imagine doing it themselves, they admire the work, and who can argue the cute factor? This guy? He’s not smiling. This isn’t a light-hearted conversational gambit. He’s dead serious.
“Different strokes, I guess. It suits me.” I shrug and grin again. Come on, guy, lighten up!
“My wife does that. There are SIX of them in my house right now.” His lip curls in revulsion. “Six. And today’s my day off!”
You know, I’m really not sure what to say to this. Not that he’s really listened to anything I’ve said so far anyway. So I don’t say anything at all.
“Today’s my day off, and I decided to take another shift, because, it would drive me crazy, be around that all day.” He shakes his head, annoyance writ clear on his face. “Helluva job. Helluva job.”
And with that, he picks up our garbage cans and empties their moldering contents into the filthy back of the reeking truck he drives.