Friday, July 22, 2016
For the Homeless or Myself
14th April 2013
The morning passed in sleep and so the day has come to mid afternoon with me drifting in and out of this world. Even now my body finds its stamina in short supply as sleep and resting easily calls me from my work. I had no sleep of any kind on the thirteenth and so have come to this state as my being slowly regulates and comes back to a more normal way.
I question if I can call the ordeal result of my dedication or greed because my lack of sleep came as result of my labors with the homeless. I work Friday night into Saturday morning and the evening shift came open with an opportunity for eight hours overtime.
Normally, I would jump at the chance to work more hours, but I gave the opening a few days to sink in with the other guards before letting folks know that if it was still open I would come in for the shift. I was the only one to make such an offer and so took to have eight hours of free time between leaving and returning to work on Saturday.
As you know, this situation would mean little to me if I have no other engagements on the day in question. I sleep when there is time to sleep and work when work is needed but have no trouble getting the two completed. Unfortunately, this was a day elected for a bond assessor to arrive and examine the work left unfinished by a contractor.
One of the rooms to be inspected, as you may recall, is my washroom, and so I could find no sleep with my bed room disturbed. Further, Pony Girl would be here making a ruckus and you know how she bothers me. As Pony Girl and the truth are rare companions I knew I had to have something to do with this event and so I did engage myself with the assessor.
I should have taken control of this event from the start but what is done is done. Pony Girl had first missed several key points of the failed repair. The largest of these was a place where the drywall was rotting through the paint. The assessor said that the promises made by the contractor were not bondable so the cheap cabinets installed are my problem. Further, the mismatched tile can only be repaired out of my pocket rather than the contractors. Apparently they can use tile from will not match up and to a poor job of installing it to boot.
The cherry on top of the assessor’s visit was negligence on the part of Pony Girl who set a latter for the man that was unstable. It slipped from under him and he hurt his hand. He came to the kitchen and washed away the blood but we had no idea where our first aid kits had ended up after Pony Girls run through the house. Like a soldier in the fight the assessor finished his work with his wound but I kick myself for not preventing this injury.
After that I came into work and in doing found the shift I expected. The evening shifts always mean more work for me and so I wrote a long report over the passing eight hours. By the time the night had replaced day I felt the exhaustion in my head. By shift’s end I was having trouble and wondering if I could find my way home.
I found my limit and so still have to ask if I did this for the homeless or myself. I suppose it makes no difference now. The night has gone and they next day has come and finally I find myself ready for any real work.
Stay strong, little sister,
Richard Leland Neal