JUST SHOOT ME NOW

     As reported before, I was asked to "work the kitchen" today while Doug is on vacation. I was told that the new PR fellow's parents would be helping me, but I was NOT told that we'd have a dozen landscaping volunteers and the shelter staff to feed, as well as our resident homeless. There was a "gathering" in the dining room before the feast, and Major God gave a little speech about the volunteers... (I didn't exactly hear it over the pot washing that I was doing). Then there was a long bowing of heads. Then everyone ate.
     PR fellow's dad put our heated pans of donated foods on the serving shelf, and set out plates and utensils. That was a godsend. He also cleaned them up afterward.
     I made a plate of my French tomato slices. We're spilling over with tomatoes. A large box of tomatoes was delivered to the back porch, and a half dozen heavy pans of food were brought in. I labeled them, dated them and did enough lifting to last me.
     I put many boxes on the back porch to be broken down by a stronger person, put many huge pots through the sterilizer, scrubbed the tub sinks, sanitized the surfaces, enlisted garbage patrols, and steered the preparation of 35 dinner plates for the warming oven. After four hours of what I think of as hard labor, I left with an aching back.
     There was no laughter, only a few shared smiles. This is how it is when I am put with folks who wear their religion like a helmet. They are very kind people, slightly older than I (much more worn), and far too serious.
     Our lady with the cane is back from the hospital, and would not stop thanking me for visiting her last Sunday... as if it weren't on my way home anyway. Sadly, I imagine she was there for many days with no other visitors—else why is she living in a shelter, disabled and aging?
     My last effort of the day was retrieving our ice bucket from the front grounds where it had been taken to supply the landscaping volunteers. I mean REALLY! Major God just looked at me when I said I'd come for the bucket. He seemed reluctant to let me have it. The bottom was covered with dirt and leaves, having been on the ground. I told him I needed to sterilize it and return it to the kitchen for the next meal, so he caved. Where is that man's smile? How afraid of absolutely everything on Earth is he? Only people who are afraid can carry such a solemn face all day, every day. His God is a scary one.
     Well... it's over. I won't be going in on Sunday. They're on their own; I have Weed 'n Feed to put out, and Doug will still be vacationing. Drugs... I need drugs.