The daily grind. Or more accurately, the bi-weekly grind. That?s right, my boss has had me working the ?Anna Nicole Smith? shift and it?s really beginning to rile me up. I realize that work is not always available, and cannot be fashioned out of a toothpick and some used chewing gum as in MacGyver, but I don?t think my landlord would accept that excuse as a rent payment. As it turns out, my bills don?t magically disappear when I don?t work as previously thought by my employer. It appears that the lucrative field of floor maintenance is headed for a recession, and I find myself contemplating a new profession. Yesterday I picked up some extra work putting in blue spruce trees at the home of a lovely gay couple. Now for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Picea pungens Engelm have yet to experience true happiness. The spruce can best be described as the bastard child of a porcupine and a crucifix, both being able to establish horror in the very soul of the unclean. I now fear the blue spruce. Every tree that we had looked at me as if to say, ?I am the angel of death. The time of purification is at hand?. After six hours of cuddling with the devil?s hairbrush I was approximately 50,000 puncture wounds richer. Next time I think that landscaping is the answer to all of my woes, please remind me of Siegfried and Roy?s house of perpetual suffering?. We?ll I got things to do tomorrow and it?s time to turn in, so till next time, burn every spruce you see so that they will not unite and gorge vampire-like on the bloody nectar of unlimited power.