the risks of cleaning

I caught our cleaning lady (much needed in a coal manufacturing town) standing precariously on the metal grates that protect the window in my bedroom. These grates could most likely hold a few pots, and this lady ain’t no wisp of thin air, so I was a tad worried seeing as my home is seven stories high.

I live a floor below vertigo and above laziness. Seven stories, with no elevator, has turned my chicken legs into a speed skater’s dreams. Every time I brush my leg with my hand as I haul my ass up the stairs, I feel the strong sinews of my muscles pulling even tighter. I look like Catriona Le May Doan. This does not excite me. However, I do believe that Kimmy now has a worthy Indian leg wrestling challenger.

don’t take me up on it though Kimmy, because I know you will just squeeze the pee out of me.


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