If it makes you feel any cooler, you can picture this little scene from my monday night shift at the pottery studio:
Trash is piled in front of the basement doors and must be taken outside for the weekly pickup. I take the padlock off the doors and lean over the trash pile to shove on them. As the doors are old and hang crooked, they are stubborn.
I shove harder and harder to no avail. Then suddenly the doors give all at once and I end up sprawled in the trash.
I'm just glad we're not a restaurant.
I hope those were your pants that were falling down, or I just narrated my own dorkiness for nothing.
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For the benefit of your audience, I hope you had interesting underwear on.
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Trash is piled in front of the basement doors and must be taken outside for the weekly pickup. I take the padlock off the doors and lean over the trash pile to shove on them. As the doors are old and hang crooked, they are stubborn.
I shove harder and harder to no avail. Then suddenly the doors give all at once and I end up sprawled in the trash.
I'm just glad we're not a restaurant.
I hope those were your pants that were falling down, or I just narrated my own dorkiness for nothing.
Reply
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