(i have abandoned capitalization due to my habitual infidelity to the rules.)

stopped for a drink at a pizza joint gas station--the bar stools were covered in cracked, emerald green leather and everything else glowed red. the scraggly staff kept asking politely if we would take up the mop and give the place a quick wipe.
then, i stumbled into the re-building of a house for a family i played nanny for during the summer. as i swirled around to admire the new look everything appeared to be made of wood-a shining, glazed oak-except for the ceiling, which required snapping together millions of tiny glass tiles with rubber edges. the project of this intricately geometric glass ceiling was taken up by the dad who squatted on the roof to put together the puzzle. it was not long until the boys stormed me, swinging their stubby baseball bats while chasing me through a flourishing jungle of plastic house plants into a safe corner of the garage .