Last night, I worked on a freelance manual labor job with my brother-in-law, who has a vent-a-hood cleaning business. I joked at the end how this maiden voyage of mine into this work might be Titanic in quality. A true one-off.
Here’s a real purty vent-a-hood in a private kitchen:
It doesn’t need cleaning. It is kissed by the gods every other Wednesday.
Here’s the kind–if not the extent–of the vent-a-hood we cleaned in the commercial kitchen of a well-known local restaurant (which makes really awesome chicken fried steak):
Though I’m trying to keep to BxW photos in this blog, this natural patina had to be retained for your viewing pleasure.
But, yeah, I haven’t experienced work as physical as this since I got sober in 1994 and went to work at Burger King, where a black girl saw me put on a back-support belt while unloading the delivery truck and said to me, somewhat teasingly, “you just a spoiled white boy who ain’t done a hard day’s work in your life.” She was wrong then (about the hard day’s work at least), and I’ve proven her wrong again.
That makes at least two days.
Biscuit Aisle 
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