My uncle used to work refigeration. All day long, 365 days a year he was working. I was overjoyed as a kid to help him work or hang out with him. I remember he always was greasy and dirty from crawling under people's freezers. He had a certain smell from work, not bad, just his smell. Actually, a good smell. When I work hard I smell like it, but the only hard work I do these days is come up with ideas for people who don't have any good ideas. My hands are rough any more. Some nights, when it feels like I don't know why I keep working, I have a dream about my uncle and it's simple. He's not telling me any messages. He's just there. We're eating fried chicken and watching some dumb movie and it's all OK again. I haven't had fried chicken in a long time.
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I realize we used this picture before, but it's late, I'm drinking and have something to say.
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