In my younger days, I wasn't the guy I am now.
destroyed as a person before I was five, childhood of brutality, teens of violence, settled down some in my twenties and tried to walk in the so-called 'truth' but they would not have it, It is safe to say I was never known as a hard worker or a go-to guy for anything but heavy-hitting or knee breaking.
Reading what I've spilled into this forum, you will no doubt know I undertook a reformation of sorts when I finally hit bottom in my thirties, rebuilt from the ground up. Decided what was worth standing for, what was worth attaining to.
So, fast-forward, here we are preparing for a big 4th of July blowout, it's a holiday we do, so we go overboard. We have an acre on the side of a bluff along the mississippi river, a screen porch looking up the hill at the deer and other WildPests.
We turn the garage into a banquet hall, and the screen porch is just off the garage, so its pretty nice. Well, except that the people who built the screen porch must have worn their anal sphincter around their neck.
The openings are framed in unpainted, untreated wood and that has moved some, and the sill of the openings is shimmed, but no trim in or out. Its a bug highway in and out of the screen porch! Why bother with screens?
So, we have been totally re-doing the damn thing. Well, and as the immense fellow in a wheelchair, I have been directing while they do, in most cases.
So, they are out belt sanding, and I can hear it, and it EATS AT ME! I just canNOT sit while others work!
I was never like that before, but now I see I have turned into a 'hard worker!'
I roll into my non-acessible kitchen and start washing dishes. My back hurting, me hands on fire, yet I'm frantically washing and drying dishes.
I knew I would pay for it later in soreness, but I hunched over that sink anyway, I couldn't NOT work!
Don't get me wrong, I like that I have improved as a person, but there was something, odd, something desperate about it that wierded me out.
My head got light, my chest got tight, and I wondered brifly if I was going to be ok, but resolved that if I were going to croak rith there, I was damn well not leaving any dirty dishes!
I could picture the funeral, my good-for-nothing family not believing that the fellow THEY knew actually worked himself to death, and I chuckled.
I get those funny pictures sometimes.
I think whats wrong with me is that I'm messed up, but maybe, just maybe, it's in a good way?
Well, back to work.
Roller (of the'I'm just saying is all' sheep class)