Community service stinks. Quite literally, when you're standing out in the sun cleaning windows and getting more and more dehydrated by the second.
When you've been homeschooled your whole life up 'til the past two years (and you did online school then) human interaction is a legend of sorts. You hear about it. You know the basics-- you've lived with other humans after all, and think you've got there mechanisms down-- and then you're staring at a real live stranger adult person, and you go mute.
What if I sound stupid? What if I look stupid? What if I start sweating and I get all tomato-faced?
These are all good examples of what goes through my head when saying in a loud, clear voice that I am very proud of, "I'm here for community service."
I walked everywhere. I sat down for ten minutes, then got up and walked around a track cleaning windows. I'm short. I'm really short. That became painfully obvious, both to me and the passerby, when I was cleaning big windows.
Below the track (it's a little track. it doesn't even look like a real track.) is a basketball court. At first it was just me mopping the floor, then it was me cleaning the track and a guy playing basketball. I was so glad he was playing on the side opposite of me because it was so loud and my nerves were already on edge. I was scared that if I got to close and the ball slammed into the board thingy behind the basket I would leap a foot in the air.
There were like twelve windows.
Who the heck has twelve windows in one darn room?
Too much sunlight for a hermit like myself. If I don't have a good tan at the end of all this, I'm going to be very perturbed.
And then THREE MORE GUYS CAME IN. And it was the stuff of nightmares. My heart was doing some weird bouncy thingy that popcorn does in the microwave. So many basketballs slammed into the board thingy that I was sure I was going to die of a heart attack.
Plus, can I just say awkward eye contact because awkward eye contact.
I was being very judgmental. Can you tell? Guy 1 seemed like a fairly good player but the other three were just lunging at the basket with all they had. Lord. It might've had something to with the fact that one of them was, like, seven, and the other one was thirteen or something. The dad was okay. He threw too hard.
I'm pretty sure that when you throw a basketball you don't throw yourself forward and hurl the ball with one hand. It looks awkward. And painful. I'm pretty sure you could dislocate your shoulder throwing like that.
And then MORE PEOPLE.
And MORE AWKWARD EYE CONTACT.
An old couple was walking the track, and when they came across me, the man chuckled and said, "All you need is to be a little taller, eh?"
My face laughed.
My heart did something else.
I think maybe it died.
Anyways, when I was done, I jogged down the steps with a super ginormous roll of towels that was WAY BIGGER THAN NECESSARY. It was as wide as the distance from my wrist to my elbow. SO HUGE.
I walked out looking as dignified as I could under the circumstances and walked up to the lady at the desk to let her know I was done.
I left and paced outside the building. Just ten minutes. Ten minutes, and then I would be on my way home. Oh, black jeep, where are you?
These are some of the thoughts I had while waiting to be picked up by my dad:
Basketball seems interesting when you're right there. Football does too. Eh.
I need a new cellphone.
It's really hot today.
I'm not sweating. My entire face is crying.
My feet hurt.
My arms are sore.
I'm so short. Why am I so short? Curse you, DNA.
Dude. I can still hear thumping from inside the basketball court.
I set off across the parking lot because I was getting bored and started to walk around the outdoor track because clearly the solution to the bottoms of your feet burning is to WALK MORE.
I was just about to reach it when my dad drove up.
I was so happy that I giggled and hopped all the way to the jeep.
This was my second day of community service.
I don't like it.
I have community service once a week every week. If you want me to continue to do updates, let me know the comments. If there are no replies, I'll probably do it anyways because I need to vent.
I drank Gatorade and I think I'm in love.