<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Cleanup on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/cleanup/</link><description>Recent content in Cleanup on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:46 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/cleanup/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Sara's Mannequin Suit 6: Sara's Diet</title><link>/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-6-saras-diet/</link><pubDate>Sat, 03 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2016/09/03/saras-mannequin-suit-6-saras-diet/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="sarasmannequinsuit5.html"&gt;story continues from part five&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 6: Sara&amp;rsquo;s Diet&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sara stepped out of her car and pulled down her black leather skirt that had risen to expose most of her leg as she operated the stick shift of the vehicle.  She walked up the sidewalk to the front door absentmindedly smoothing her silk blouse while she walked.  It was late and the lights were off.  Her mind was on business, it was always on business, a list of things to do that never got any smaller.  The mannequin suit was a huge success by anyone&amp;rsquo;s standard and now three years after she first put it on her husband, she was the executive officer of a well-established company.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>That New Car Smell Part 3: The Return Home</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/that-new-car-smell-part-3-the-return-home/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/that-new-car-smell-part-3-the-return-home/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="thatnewcarsmell2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That New Car Smell Part 2: No Free Ride to the Dealership&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Part 3: The Return Home&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was now late in the day Thursday night, although she no idea of the date or time. Her head was still a fog and hadn’t eaten in forever. Her body was still badly battered under all of the other tortures and now she had to escape the garbage pit and endure untold humiliations to find her way home. One leg was unable to bend and both feet extremely clumsily as she plodded along with heavy buckets attached to them both. She made it to the edge of the pit; then lost her balance and tumbled down the edge to the bottom of the tall gently sloped hill.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>