Charity work

Being a creature of habit, I tend to take Kylie on the same walk around our neighborhood several times a week. For the past few weeks, we've been walking during the later portion of the afternoon, and I've noticed something peculiar: there is a car that parks in the same spot, each day, and a man has been taking a nap in the passenger side seat whenever Kylie and I march by. It's a busy street, so I admire his undaunted quest for sleep. He drapes the newspaper over his head to shield out the sun, so I've never seen his face, but I'm overly familiar with his footwear.

You see, he sets his shoes out on the sidewalk next to his car. Heaven forbid his toes should not be able to dance and wiggle free during his slumber. Instead, I have to navigate around the shoes which is a challenge only because Kylie wants to bury her nose deep inside and absorb their odor which I can only imagine resembles decaying cheese or the grave (let's just say the shoes are not well cared for and leave it at that lest any of you have delicate stomachs). What does it say about my character that I've wanted to steal his shoes each time I pass them? Nothing good, I'm sure, but at least I can be certain that my spot in hell is reserved!

Today, to reward myself for not having eaten that second brownie, I moved the shoes under his car as I walked past - and I'll have you know this showed a remarkable amount of self-control on my part. I went down a ways and paused, hoping that since Kylie and I were walking by at a later hour that we might catch him at the end of his nap, and witness his Panic! and Alarm!, thinking his shoes were LOST! or STOLEN!, and then relief! over finding them tucked beneath his car. Alas, he still hadn't stirred after five minutes, and I really had to get home to pee.

I like to think I keep people on their toes and their minds sharp. It's a public service of sorts. I should really be compensated.