A Token of My Occupation

A wind chime in Newfoundland is a racket.

Disinfecting them isn't raising them.
For all of the on-again off-again parents that may be reading this.
That's a tidbit for you.
Also, you've gotta talk to your kids, parents.
Cause I'm sick of doing it.
I can't think of anything more arduous.

Y'know what separates us from the monkeys?
Mouthwash.
That, and those collapsible canvas shoe racks that you can hang in your closet.
Because monkeys don't wear shoes.
Cuts down on their dexterity.
It would be like we humans trying to go about our day with thumbless oven mitts on.

If I worked at the DMV, I would give out handicapped stickers as presents.
Jam one of those in someone's birthday card.
Far more thoughtful than a gift voucher for that Amish place with the furniture.
I could give out his and hers stickers for anniversaries.
Inside, the card would say:
COUPLES WHO PARK TOGETHER, STAY TOGETHER!
Wicked for a baby shower.
"There you go.
Sure, it's not as pertinent as a bib right now.
But she'll grow into it."