WHAT A MESS!

     It looked like a regular Sunday when I drove into town, except the trees were all covered with just enough ice to make them glisten. Lovely, just lovely. Our die-hard homeless were bundled to a fare-thee-well, trooping through the streets with the appearance of having someplace to go.
     Doug and Crazy were slowly pulling together foods for lunch and dinner, and within 5 minutes Hottie came to the kitchen for something. I set to work making 4 dozen meat and cheese sandwiches for tomorrow's sack lunches. Doug had a pot of potato soup on the stove for lunch, and another with green beans for dinner. In the oven he had two pans of dressing. I never did discover tonight's entree, but for lunch we served chicken salad. It wasn't that fabulous kind we had in pre-release days, but nobody complained.
     The 17-year-old didn't want any, but his mother told him he was going to have some, and he was going to taste it. So he agreed. Later, he came for more.
     I think we served about 20 lunches, all told. The kids who work across the street came for a plate. They weren't as jolly as usual, but our weather isn't helping.
     When I'd finished serving lunch, I returned to my sandwich preparation, and sacked 2 dozen lunches. Doug helped. Then I made about 2 dozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and we sacked those for the street folks.
     The guys were pleasant today—almost too quiet. Somebody had stolen 30 pounds of meat from the freezer, and the incident had thrown a pall on the place. Mr. A was once the central thief, but he's been gone a long time! Fingers were pointing toward Crazy.
     Before my very loose "shift" ended, and sooner than ever before, Crazy declared himself sick and went home. Doug would have done that too because he was sick at heart, but he could only try to solve the puzzle. He and Hottie talked at length about the problem. They will put a lock on the freezer… some of the cameras work, but the most important ones no longer make films; ergo, there was no proof of who came and went or what they might have carried away. Doug took me aside in the pantry and said, "Miss Joy, you can't bring your bag in here anymore, and you need to leave your purse in the car."
     My bag? My Sunday-Lady bag? Really?
     It took awhile, but once I got home, I decided I could take candies and toys in a basket. It's worth a try. This theft thing is awfully pervasive. One might imagine that 30 pounds of meat could be sold for a few ounces of drugs—drugs sneaked across the border from Mexico in some malnourished, dehydrated, lice-riddled child's over-sized shoes.