Tuesday, February 3rd

7:15am. I’m the wake-up guy. Every week we each get a job assigned to us. This week this is mine. It’s an important job. That probably goes without saying. If I am delinquent in my duties, the whole operation comes to a standstill. Correction; If I slack off, the day never even gets started. It’s worth noting that had they given us a personality profile, or even administered the old Junior High “Things you might be good at” test, I would not have been considered a viable candidate for this position. I have trouble coaxing myself out of the rack, let alone anyone else. Yet there I was at 6:05am, a little ray of sunshine, going door to door. Actually, I’ll bet I was a welcome change for most of my peers. The last wake-up guy threw the door open and turned on the light. (He was very lucky that by the time I went to bed every night, I had forgotten my elaborate plans to boobie-trap my door with yarn and a swinging pair of scissors.) Anyway, I take a softer gentler approach; I give a little tap-tappy on the door, open it, and say “Good Morning!” Then I ask if they want the light on. I think it’s appreciated. Granted only half of the guys made it to breakfast yesterday, and about a third missed the first lecture, but I can’t be responsible for what happens after I leave. I’ve got lots of people to get to. Last week I was flag-guy. I loved that job, and I was good at it. Mostly because, due to the three feet of snow around the base of it, the flag stays up all the time. I was pretty much responsible for looking out the window and making sure the flag was still there. It always was. Unfortunately, my watch came and went with no cause to mourn, but had one presented itself, I was ready to take ‘er down to half mast at a moment’s notice. Man, I was a good flag-guy.

3:00pm. So, I guess things are going pretty well. I really feel like I’m ready to get out of here. I’ve been so disconnected from the rest of the World for three weeks, now. I’ve learned a lot… and I’m ready to put those things into practice. I know what I need to do. I’ll never go back to the life I was leading, that much I’m pretty sure of.        

9pm. I’m going to climb out the window. No, I’m not. Yes. I am. Just for a couple of minutes and then I’ll climb right back in. Nobody’s going to be any the wiser. Dammit. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about it. This would be a dangerous mission. The reasons for my insanity… the reasons I’m even considering such a thing, are spread out on the red particleboard desk in front of me. A metal window crank, (also red, but worn almost to a chrome) capable of opening and closing the two long windows in the room. All the windows in this place are of the crank variety. But someone went around and removed all the cranks. To prevent escape, I guess. Seems like such a trivial thing until it’s taken away from you. Have you ever been in someone’s car and they can’t, or won’t, dislodge the kiddie control on your window? Same feeling of frustration, times ten. The window crank, or simply the Crank as it’s known in local lore, has been passed on for generations. It is now in my care. Next we have a half empty box of dryer sheets and one cardboard roll from the toilet paper in the bathroom. Item number four… I’m looking at it right now. Half of a Marlboro Light. A little less, maybe. It’s a Menthol and it’s all bent at the end. I don’t even smoke Menthols, but I’ve had it for three days. 

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