When my Father thought he had a job..."thought" being the operative word.
This morning my post This was my conversation with Mickey last night. Keep in mind she has never met any of these people. dealt with my Mother. Of course, that got me thinking about my Father.
The week of Thanksgiving in 2001, I moved back to Cleveland from NYC. For a year and a half I lived with my parents.
January of 2002 I started a job as a Property Manager for a small community with a little over 300 suites. Fourteen buildings, garden style apartments, a lovely little community. The day I started the job was the day my Father "thought" he had a job and was working again.
It was about 10 minutes from my parents home, and my 84 year old Father (at the time, he has since passed) would show up almost every day. He'd park his car in front of my office and walk the grounds. Each day I got a report that went something like this:
- The gutters on all of the buildings need to be cleaned.
- Building 12 needs a new roof.
- The back door of Building 7 needs to be painted.
- Get someone out here to check the downspout on Building 3.
- Call the garbage people, the dumpsters are full.