I moved the curtains over just a bit and peeked out the window. There the truck sat, directly in front of a neighbor's house, headlights on, engine running. Our neighbors aren't there these days as their house is currently a construction site with all the amenities. The truck sat, and it sat, and it sat.
I went into my laundry room which had a better view of where the truck was. I pulled the blinds down just enough to look outside. The truck still sat. And then I noticed the port-a-potty door opened, a guy walked out, got in his truck, and drove off.
I've been trying to get into this guy's head all day. Was he just driving along needing to "go" and had a hallelujah moment when he saw that port-a-potty? Could he really not wait till he got where he was headed? Why on earth would "going" in a port-a-potty, which must've been squid ink black inside, be preferable to just finding a bush?
Ya, I don't get it.
Oh, and whoda thunk I'd be blogging about port-a-potties twice in one week? Not I, but there ya go.
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