My tour of duty bringing in our new friends from out of town is done. Dave and I have spent so much time working on other things, going out on runs, that our everyday work is getting behind. We are still actively working on the wall, though we have made a lot of progress all things considered.
We will be finished with it in less than two weeks. One week, if we get enough folks from the new wave of people that know how to swing a hammer. The zombies outside seem almost agitated, as if they know what we are on the verge of but can't do anything about it.
Roger is still sort of shadowing me. I think his wife and kids are getting worried about the fact that by trying to keep me safe, he is putting himself in a lot more danger than he would normally be exposed to. I keep trying to explain to him that the whole thing is pointless, but now it's getting to the point where it's a little insulting. I mean, I chose to distract the zombies that had him cornered. I made the conscious decision to put myself in danger, and I got away clean, as I have done many times before. He thinks I need some kind of guardian angel? Jeez.
Part of the problem is that he's older than me, I think. He sees me as a kid, and that seems to be coloring his attitude toward me a bit. Maybe he has some ultra-strong parental drive and his brain is treating me like his own kid. Not too far outside of the box as an idea; we have similar features. Both of us have dark hair (though his is salt and pepper), we're both broad shouldered and blue-eyed, fair skinned, and have small noses.
But we're making good use of him. Dave and I are good with organization, Dave specialized in construction, and I am a good general engineer. I know a little about a lot of things. Roger hanging out in our office has been surprisingly helpful. His knowledge of metals is truly enormous, and he has the practical knowledge to correct and improve on a huge number of things that my brother and I are working on. If he's going to be around anyway, we might as well use his brain for the betterment of all of us.
I don't want to make it seem like I don't like the guy. He's a great guy, used to be a minister in his spare time. Built houses for poor folks when he was younger. It's just that he has this infuriating sense of personal honor that happens to clash with my own need for personal space.
Ok, I'm leaving it there. Too much work to do, and Jess is hollering at me to come help her pick tomatoes, which is about the most strenuous work any of us are willing to let her do. I'm out.
Cross your fingers for a slow week for zombie attacks, so we can finally and totally enclose this place.