My office job isn't really an office job. (and I love it)

I cut my professional teeth in manual labor. As such I've always had a soft spot for that feeling at the end of the day when I cut myself out of my shrunken and salty sweat soaked jeans in my mad dash for a shower. A moment of victory hard earned and richly deserved.

For some reason I thought working at an office in an apartment complex meant dealing with officy things and they do... when people actually bother to move out. When they decide to turn our $150 dollar a bag "trash out" policy as a maid service my callused hands are conscripted. A solid quarter of our tenets are wealthy glob trotting students. So the idea that they themselves would sully their brows with sweat over shlepping their 80 pounds of clothes/cleaning supplies off the 3rd floor is simply out of the question.

I haven't sweated like I have today in almost 5 years. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it. Plus it's not every day you get to "throw out" easilly $800 worth of kitchen supplies. Seriously. This guy left his entire kitchen behind and was all "...eh. I'll pay $300 to get rid of it."

I always wanted a wok.