Commutable grossness.

The past few days I've had run-ins with Ick on the way to work. Sometimes I really don't like living here much, and this is why.

First was the empty, crushed carton from a home pregnancy test in the parking lot of an off-brand, no-name dollar store. Didn't they read the package? It's a HOME pregnancy test.

Second was the empty medical sample cup rolling around the Septa Elevated Train (the "El").

But I suppose it could have been worse.

There actually could have been urine, sputum, feces, or spunk in the sample cup.

Small favors, I suppose.