going
going
gone
The Mobile Mini guy came yesterday and took away our storage pod. We’ve been through good and bad times together, me, the staff of Feast and that pod. We’ve filled it with what we thought was equipment of some value from Der Wienerschnitzel, only to discover that it was worth about the cost of dragging it away to the scrapyard; we’ve filled it with more crap, reorganized it and so on. We’ve worked in there in bitter cold and sweltering heat, and now it’s gone. Parting is indeed sweet sorrow, but I find myself particularly unsettled by an image of the Mobile Mini guy under my balcony, wishing he was the glove that touched my cheek. If you’d seen the Mobile Mini guy, you’d know what I’m talking about here. Ew.