It’s September 12th.
I’ve updated my resume and if you, or someone you know, is in a hiring-type position, feel free to take a look…oh please do! If you’re interested, I most want to be a Product Designer. And so it goes.

I live in an apartment complex around which the main internal driveway snakes. Mini-driveways shoot off from this main driveway in a sub-arterial fashion, off which are a multitude of covered parking spaces for the appropriate tenants. Each of these little alcoves form a virtual car-neighborhood, where you see the same inhabitants day after day, and turnover is limited by the turnover the actual, human owners.

Nevertheless, three to four times a month, a yellow and blue tow-truck backs in to the end of my particular artery, and presumably picks up an expired auto. This usually happens in the early morning where it’s back-up beeping admirably drives me to distraction and loathing, and, effectively ruins my mood for the rest of the day.

My question to you is: what the huh? Is this the same car exploding several times a year, or different cars that are perhaps born periodically in the back corner of my little alcove, unfortunately misshapen and doomed to clogged fuel injectors and cracked flywheels from the get-go. These poor monstrosities appear in this world, mewling pathetically, and no only pain from the first headlight ignition. I pity them really, each brother and sister being dragged unceremoniously to a scrap heap burial, mere moments after their birth. Poor poor autos.

PS It seems to me that cars and trucks large enough to need the back-up beeping to announce their presence…don’t

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