Refuse recepticles.

I can imagine that being a trashman or garbage collector would get old. Quick. And I am *certain* that I could not survive in this particular role. For starters they’d have to change the title. Stat. Because I won’t be going anywhere near a job that says “trash woman” in the posting. I’m more prone to like “Refuse Rescuer”. Sounds like I may be doing something noble with my time rather than dumping leftovers and tampon wrappers into my trash truck. I’m rescuing the refuse, people!

A bit bleery eyed.

Please note: Last October (or was it November) when Day Light Savings occurred I decided that turning my clock back with the rest of the world was a waste of my precious time. Who needs that sort of ridiculousness. I’m intelligent enough to understand that I have to subtract an hour each time. Fast forward

I’m an idiot. Example One.

I’ve been a little sleepy and/or out of it the past few days. So much going on… I’m just trying to not fall down the rabbit hole. I realize it’s probably not so good to start a story off with excuses, but I have to give you an idea of what we’re working with here.