Dangle

For the past twenty minutes, I've been sitting at a desk on the 8th floor of 233 N Michigan Ave, watching strange snowflake-like white poofs fall past the windows in a nearly constant stream. I lost interest for a while, because I couldn't figure out what it was (seeing as it's about 80 degrees and sunny out, I ruled out snow after the first ten minutes).

Then, there were some guys outside my window. Not directly on the other side, on the adjacent building actually, but still, at least eight floors up and outside the window.

Soap bubbles: That's what I had been seeing falling. So now I'm stuck not doing any work because I have to watch the window washers repel down from the top of these huge buildings with nothing more than a harness, a bucket of suds, and a squeegee or two.

It's impressive, really. I mean, these guys start off at the top, which is, I'm guessing, around 25 stories. And then they just calmly scoot down the side of the building, washing the windows as they go. And when they lower themselves, it's not in a gentle manner. No, it's a fast jerk, a six foot free fall before they lock off again. I bet it's a rush, but I also bet that I don't really ever want to do it. Unless it pays well.