Living in the desert, soon you’ll learn,

There ain’t much to do but get a sunburn,

And before you know it you’ll be fairly bored.

Right when I thought I’d go outta my mind,

I took a stand and got off my behind.

I decided to clean out, my trusty Ford.

Cleaning and such have never been my way,

But I figured, “Hell, I got all day…”

“…what’s the worst that could happen if I take on this chore?”

I went at it – started pokin and proddin’,

about two feet in, I smelled something rotten,

And…whew!…it was coming from the core!

I dove right in and moved a large pile.

I held my breath and swallowed some bile.

I knew it was risky but I’ve always been a gambler.

I took my time and used my legs to lift,

Careful of the stench and any sudden shift,

That might cause a landslide in the EM-50 Phantom Rambler.

I knew my boredom wouldn’t be sated,

Until I’d emptied the van (pic related)

So I sallied on like it was a mission from The Almighty.

The smell got worse but I kept going.

And the floor of the Rambler so was showing…

…signs of progress but still wasn’t what you’d call… “tidy”.

Mike Rowe himself woulda turned down this job,

Given two helpers, they’da just formed a mob,

So, I did it myself and saved on the cost.

I found some things I didn’t know we’re missing,

Like, this Louisville Slugger, Dave Parker edition,

And three cups of unsweetened applesauce.

Ol’ Trixie McDish would have sure been proud,

Of the way I was cleaning, but then I swore real loud.

When I realized there was no way it would all go back in.

So, I took a break and drank a beer,

And, even though there was nobody around to hear,

I cussed a blue streak ’til I was out of wind.

So,  here I sit surrounded by things.

Like, all my belongings and sand and hills and rings.

(That’s from “A Horse with No Name”)

Maybe it’ll take a miracle,

Or help from whiskey – one really long pull.

Either way, it’s all a part of the game.