Jumpin' like it's nothing...

Me and my cousin Rob are picking and trimming in the scorching paved utopia they call Mississauga. Although it's unbearably hot, we seem to work at an unbelievable pace, holding the bin and picker in one hand, and the trimmer in the other. My reach, similar to my cousins, is five to ten meters, so walking down the middle of the strip of grass I'm cleaning and trimming both sides of the street at the same time. I am able to do the work oof two men, all at a walking pace. I am not even breaking a sweat and wondering when we will have a break. I decided we had worked far enough and signaled mentally for breaktime, my cousin in one leap jumped to my side of Mavis Road, threw his gear into the back of the truck and slipped inside. Suddenly we are on the BK plaza and the bank is closed. For some reason this dilema barred any chance of doing any further labour for the day, so we called it one and drove home. All evening we practiced songs to sing at work. The next morning we got up and drove to work in the company truck and changed our bad pickers with other people's good ones.