Making work for the sweepers.

I could settle for a life as a street sweeper. In Sardinia. Where I'm living with my Italian true love. I don't need the job. Because I'm retired. And able to live on my social security and pension and savings. But if I ever had to supplement my income, I'd gladly accept a job as a street sweeper in the city of Carbonia. I see the street sweepers almost every day. And I consider their way of life as idyllic outdoor work. One pushes a cart up and down the streets. And most sweepers come equipped with at least two brooms. They look homemade. With a design that harkens back to the 18th or 19th century. Bristles at least a foot long. Crafted, I presume, from some stiff organic material. Nothing like the conventional brooms I see in the USA. The sweepers work at a leisurely pace. I saw one standing behind his pushcart today reading a newspaper. Maybe he was on a break. Educating himself. Street sweeper would be my second most coveted occupation. First and foremost, I'd seek employment as a shepherd. I like the tranquility of it all. Out in the countryside. Although I have seen some shepherds at work in the smaller towns. Directing their flocks across the streets. Stopping traffic. And quite possibly making dirty work for the street sweepers.--Jim Broede