This morning I made my way to the Internet cafe. On the road, the porta-potty cleaners were hard at work. Dressed in long sleeves and face masks they spray out the filth with a large hose attached to a truck. I hold my breathe and rush by, but before I can get out of the way I feel a light spray hit my arm.
Some mornings are harder than others.
Today the sky is blue and the dust is retreating into corners.
But there is nothing worse than the feeling of water and feces on your skin before you've even ingested your morning coffee. Well I guess it would be worse, my job could be cleaning the john.
My trials are nothing that a little soap and water can't fix.
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