I was dressing an old guy in his suit today when I realised that he had Chicago Bulls socks to put on. I wondered when the last time was that this 86 year old man had watched basketball. This made me smile, imagining him cheering on the likes of Michael Jordan and Dennis Rodman in the 90's. Perhaps the socks were gifted without an awareness of a logo, but I wanted to believe that this guy appreciated all things dope.
I smiled a lot today. The socks added to the pleasant mood. Yesterday I put a pair of boxer shorts on a man that had 'hot and throbbing' printed all over the cheap satin. This guys junk held neither of those characteristics, by the sheer fact that his blood hadn't been pumping for three entire days. I was too busy to chuckle yesterday, but today I could reflect on the irony and hoped that this inside joke was in fact an intention of the family.
I got pooped on by another dead person, but I was able to handle it today because I realised that I could actually handle it. I googled whether poop had ever killed anyone and found out that it indeed has, by monstorous gushings of elephant dung or crushing via fallen awnings covered in pidgeon shit. A little bit of poop on a sleeve was not a cause for distress.
So there you go. It's the little things, like googling shit and observing paradox, that makes a day special.
Peace. x
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