And, homelessness impending I've been looking for a pair of shoes. And a sleeping bag. With no luck.
Shoes, expensive, even used, especially given their condition. I bought a new pair last week - but - still breaking them in, and 5 hours in to a shift and they are hurting like hell.
And sleeping bags, we donate those to "Stepping Stones", a charity that helps the homeless. SO, no, can't just buy or scoop one off the floor there.
Yesterday, a thrift shop staff meeting. About 8 people in attendance, the "full timers", I'm there as well, I've got nothing. Everyone says their bit, has their say, a full hours conversation on nothing. They ask me - I'm too new - and planning on making myself redundant ASAP - so - knowing my place - I've got nothing.
Today, donation, a brand-new never-used "Bounty Hunter" metal detector. A cheap one, maybe $200, $300, but I pick it up for Chris. He's been wanting one.
Going to give it to him after work he's broke. So I give him money for batteries, then buy his coffee.
Bloody hell. Never a good deed goes unpunished.
From there to the locker. Lock up all my mixed-media treasures, suffer the rain of rocks, mispacked possessions, rummaging through the top couple of layers to find some balloons (for work), a pair of beautiful brand new brown dress shoes (breaking in, again, will be heinous), some eyeglasses (I have ten back-up pairs with me at all times) and a sleeping bag.
This, extruded from a crack at the three foot mark up the back wall.
Try, for a minute or two, to repack - impossible, I've not time, or enough boxes, and so - press it all in, listen to the creaking - the groaning - of the pile of rubbish, drop the door - and then - and then - it all comes tumbling down, you can hear it rattling and clattering on the door.
This locker, it's the repository of broken dreams.