good intentions

working a shelter shift.

another branch of our organization hosted an event tonight with a huge taco bar. they, nicely, offered to bring the leftovers to shelter for residents to eat.

first drama: i'm downstairs finding a toiletry for someone when three women fly downstairs. "becca! beccaaaa!!!! there's a man at the door! there's a man at the door!"

indeed, there is a man at the door. with a car trunk full of taco fixins. after unloading them, he smiles and leaves. now we face the problem of stuffing huge helpings of said fixins into two small-and-already-filled-to-capacity-and-shared-by-20-people-who-may-or-may-not-even-be-interested-in-eating-taco-leftovers refrigerators. no one was interested in helping me with this task.

i rearranged everything like i was playing the most annoying game of tetrus ever and was almost done when i realized that the tub of chicken, covered in one thin, failing layer of plastic wrap, was overflowing under the weight of the lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese. and dripping all over everything in the fridge, the floor, and my leg.

it's in there. to be eaten or to mold. but it was a nice thought.