Dawes Life Relaxation 5

You're a window washer in New York City. It's a clear day, and you are preparing to wash a skyscraper. You clip* your safety belt into the loops above your head and begin to hoist yourself up with both arms.* When you get to the 42nd floor, you bend* from the waist and look down* to wave* to your partner, who looks like a dropped raisin on the dusty sidewalk. You straighten* back up, grab a bucket of water and soap*, and splash* some liquid on the smeared window. You pull* your squeegee from your belt and begin to swipe* back and forth along the pane. After a while, you stretch* and yawn.* The squeegee slips from your hand and plummets to the street. "Oh, no!"* With both hands, you grab* the pulley and begin to lower* yourself down. When you get to street-level, you stoop* all the way down and pick* your squeegee up out of the sewer grate. You quickly shove* the squeegee back in your belt, glance around* to make certain no one is looking, and rapidly hoist* yourself back to the 42nd floor. Seeing the windowpane is clear, you pant* on the last spot of grime, scrub* it with the heel of your right hand, and sigh.* "A job well-done!"*