My wife says that if something is too obscure, or too small, or TOO DANGEROUS in this home, her spouse should do it.
Take my early morning missions to get the operating refuse out to the meeting point, at the curb. Sounds like nothing, like something a thousand guys do! But I can tell you clearly of my memory of these ecologically-motivated endeavors, driven by my unselfish desire [this is about you!] to help the world in its most complex challenge, accomplished I can tell you, with sniper fire blazing over my head, sometimes with my small daughter huddled for protection at my side. [I first thought this was the backfiring of a neighborhood car, but have since concluded differently.] The strategy I have developed, and have taught my daughter, is what I call "evasive compression" (known in some quarters as "ducking"). It seems to have worked so far, despite the fact that the inhabitants of this neighborhood seem to believe that it is deadly important to prevent me from rendevousing weekly with my armed vehicle [Waste Management ordinance].
Don't know how long I can survive doing these dangerous military missions. My only comfort is to know that someday they will qualify me for some higher national position. Because they give me a substantial background in affairs that affect the world. God knows that at least I will be prepared for anything at 3 A.M.! I am ready!
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