said the joker to the thief

There are many benefits to working at home. There is also, however a downside. Every so often I catch a touch of cabin fever and it becomes imperative to get out of the apartment. Where do I go? I go to Target. I mean, I live in Longmont. There aren't a ton of destinations, and our Super Target never fails to live up to its name. My only complaint is that sometimes the front half of the store smells faintly of poop. It's not unbearable, but it does evoke a rather unpleasant memory. Years ago I worked as a bagger at Harmon's grocer. Part of my duties included the occasional janitorial work, i.e. taking out the trash and tidying the bathrooms. For a long time it was never anything worse than cleaning up an ice cream spill on aisle 19. But then one day, while I was enjoying my diet coke in the break room, our manager crackled over the intercom, "Meg, there's been an accident in the Men's restroom that we need you to clean up." I knew that could only mean one thing and that something terribly ugly awaited in a bathroom stall. I didn't move for five minutes. I considered quitting. Then I considered faking my own death. Then I decided to just get it over with. Because I love you, I'll spare you the details. I will say that to this day I have no idea how it could have been physically possible to make a mess like that. Disguisting doesn't even begin to describe it. And I cleaned it all. I didn't quit. I didn't improvise a cardiac arrest.  I dare say I'm a stronger person for it today. Not that I don't pity whoever has to clean the Target restroom.