I drove up the nice hill to the nice house with the nice driveway. Before I even got to the nice door to meet the nice lady, I already knew that the stain on the concrete porch that she was referring to was hot chocolate.
I rang the doorbell. She seemed surprised to see a guy like me. I was dressed about as stylishly dysfunctional as imaginable. I guess she had formed a different impression of me during our 45 minute phone conversation.
She asked me again if I thought it was possible to remove the coffee stain. I told her with conviction that it wasn’t coffee. She asked how I knew. I told her that I am The King, and that I knew things about things.
She was impressed, and paid me $200 cash upfront to remove the stain. An hour later I gave the money back to her because I determined that it was a Mocha. She offered me up a four course breakfast for my honesty. I was spent.
I did the unthinkable this spring and summer. Mentally, Physically, and Spiritually. I went to a deep dark place, where Shawshank Redemption and The Karate Kid got played over and over and over. And I was over it.
