I have a cute girlfriend and a tiny dog. I live on the periphery of a cute little town in Pennsylvania, about slingshot-distance from the Delaware border. On average, there are better places in the world. In the fall, however, my current perch on the Earth is hard to assail.
Hands held and a small dog exploring beside us, we made our way to the coffee shop. I feel like I am in the 1%. I am in the 1% of the luckiest people currently, and I know it. This is not a money-based measure, but rather an algorithmic output based on many variables including what I’ve seen, who I know, and what I’ve done. I’m a lucky guy, and my only job is to keep my head out of the muck.
With clasped hands and a curious small-dog, we took a right turn to travel up the alley between Broad and Union. I like this alley because traffic is infrequent, and it gave me a vintage tuner last month – a tuner equipped with an 8-track tape deck. It’s a good alley. People line the sides with spoils; awaiting the victor. That’s me. I have a van.
In tiny house news, I’m a skilled procrastinator who just bought paint for the interior. After paint comes flooring, and I was planning to use an old rug. The alley-of-spoils had another plan. A small remodeling project was reaching completion near Juniper Street, and the “old” laminate flooring was being discarded in neat manageable stacks.
I called dibs mentally as our party-of-three continued our saunter towards coffee. After some small-town smiles and what’s-ups, we headed home for the van. Twenty minutes from then, I was sliding stacks of flooring out of the trash and into the back. I pulled the stacks vertically from a reasonably clean trash can. As the stacks cleared the rim, I rested them above my knee while improving my grip before easing them into a horizontal position in the van. Clearly, I was not careful enough about splinters.
Nothing hurt, but when something felt a little funny, I looked down and saw a toothpick-sized spear sticking out of my leg. I pulled it out carefully so it wouldn’t snap off under the skin. To my surprise, about a full inch slid out, giving that strange sensation of a body part vomiting remotely. Without these minor technical injuries, there would be little in life to make me feel like a real man. It felt goooood.