frustration

Frustration set in today. Hard.
I was sent to do yardwork around the neighborhood which I thought was a grand idea. However, this yardwork turned out to be a political move, something that is becoming very apparent in this organization. I thought I would be cutting the grass for people like Miss Rita, but that wasn't the case. I was sent to mow the grass of abandoned houses. See, if the grass in front of a house gets too high, the city begins imposing fines. If those fines aren't paid, it indicates the person is not returning to that home, which gives the city leverage to take the house. Some people don't like that. But as I was trying to cut down four foot high weeds with a malfunctioning weed whacker and a high school girl from Brooklyn who has never cut a blade of grass in her life, I started to wonder about things. It's one hundred degrees and I'm struggling to mow the front of a house which is clearly falling over for a person that may be dead or living in another city, all in the name of keeping "The Man" from infringing on this neighborhood. Meanwhile, Miss Rita is sitting in her chair while her grass grows taller around her. So I stopped. Stopped and sat down. Soon the high schooler began lecturing me that if we didn't cut the grass the city would fine the people... regurgitating exactly what she hears from people she is following blindly and without question, which was precisely what I was doing thirty seconds prior to that moment. It was alarming. Suddenly I lost my vision of helping and felt swept up in something much bigger and much less appealing. What purpose is sweating to save a house nobody wants in first place? And do the neighbors really want an empty, rotting house next door? I would have asked, but there were no neighbors, just more tall grass and empty, rotting houses. Why was I working so hard for something that doesn't exist? These are super-hard questions down here that can drive a person insane if he thinks about it.
So there I sat; a weed whacker that wouldn't stat, a righteous, nasal voiced 17 year old who wouldn't shut up and my frustrated self. It was about that time the fire ants attacked my hand. I've had better days.
Tomorrow I go back to gutting houses. Thank heavens.