Its Tuesday night. Im at a New Orleans local coffee shop (Rue de la Course, or tha Rou). And Im wearing clean slacks, new flip flops and a pink shirt. And it feels really good.

Each morning I wake up and I put on thick work pants, heavy boots, leather gloves and a sweaty gas mask. By 9am, I have sweat through my shirt, socks, underwear and half way down my pants. By 11am, you could ring out my belt and fill a tea cup. Not only is it cumbersome and heavy to haul around soaking clothes all day, but the added factor of working in incredibly dusty conditions (speaking of, new photos from today have been uploaded to the ShutterFly sight) quickly turns wet clothes, in to muddy clothes.

By the time I get home, I CANT WAIT to be as MetroSexual as they all say I am; hair trimming, nail clipping, flossing, expholiating scrub and moisturizing! GET. IT. ON. I am the girliest sledgehammer swingin, saw zaw wieldin, pick axe slammin, and smelly trash haulin dude ya ever done met! I am also one of the cleanest fools ya ever done met.

And I leave the bathroom extra steamy. Juss tha way I like it. OOOOOOHHH, YEEEEEAAH

Post clean up and a few short hours away from signing off from the world, it feels oh so nice to chill in the balmy night and peruse the strolling crowd as I dig the NYT Online and a Chai Tea.

It's the little nightly bourgeois thingies that make the day a breath of fresh air too boot.