When we woke up, the New Jersey sun—well, it’s all ya’ll’s sun, too—was beating down, cutting through the windows, blinding us poor teenagers. I mean, we’re a week out of school, I thought sleeping in was an option. But, nonetheless, with thick, tar-like coffee coating our tongues and its caffeine invigorating our serving hearts, we set out.
We were
first at the site (and most defiantly first in humor, amazing awesomeness and
general coolness). Most of the morning was spent sitting around, waiting. And waiting.
And waiting to wait for instructions—and I assure you, nothing is worse than
waiting to wait. In the heat. On the asphalt. In jeans. When I go north, I expect the heat to diminish.
Close to the coast, I expect the muggy, sticky, stagnant air to be cut with the
breeze from the sea. If I learned anything today, it’s that neither is the
truth.
Finally,
after lunch, we set off working—kind of. Scott and I took off molding. Despite sweat
dripping into my eyes, stinging my sight, I was glad for the work. My trusty co-pilot,
Kyra Worm and others, at another house, were left stranded without supplies. They
sought solace in a back room, where the lights were off and curtains drawn.
Emmaleigh was the first to succumb to her drooping eyes and lack of work.
Taylor fell next until the entire work site was slumbering in a home that
needed major renovations and reeked of mildew. We were, quite obviously, exhausted.
But
finally, after six hours of no work, and with only two hours left, work began
in earnest. Because our serving hearts needed satisfaction and to rob them of
that would be a sin most heinous.
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