Sweatin' Corn and Sniffin' Trash

These mean streets ain't pretty but I walk 'em anyway

With apologies to Concrete Blonde, and you, if you don’t know the original song:

Walkin’ on trash day
And I am smellin’ your trash
Stinkin’ up sidewalks
And it’s-a smellin’ like ass

If I’m smart, on hot days in summer, I walk in the morning, the earlier the better.  It’s supposed to get into the 90s today.  The humidity feels like a wet body sock even at 9am and the direct morning sunlight makes me a little woozy, but it’s a whole lot smarter than trundling my fat ass down the street in the midday heat or giving myself excuses around dinnertime to call the whole thing off.

Besides, morning exercise starts the whole day on the right footing (a fact I’m sure not one fitness guru has noticed or pointed out before me).  It’s an easy chore to cross off the list, once you get over the willpower hump of actually going, and it gets the blood moving so that when I get home, take a shower and eat some breakfast, I not only feel awake and alert enough to accomplish some shit, but grateful for a job where I get to sit in a chair to do it.

Monday is trash day, though, when everyone rolls their cans out to the curb.