We spent the day on a two story installing windows and doors. We started off with two people per door, which immediately turned into a little competition. Ken and I kicked Eddie and my father’s ass… it was great. We then moved to the lower windows. They were relatively easy. We had two guys outside, two guys inside, one guy cutting shims and a sixth with a level... I was outside. The fun came with the second story windows, which have to be nailed from the outside. My father and I were outside. This made things pretty convenient because I am right handed and my father is left handed, so we could just nail opposite sides of the window from the extension ladder. It was an old ladder; the hooks that held the rung were nearly rusted through. Whoever wasn’t up the ladder had to hold it and this is the part that bothered me.

I had no problem being up the ladder... if I fell, not too big of a deal, I could die sure, but I hated being at the bottom of the ladder. My father isn’t exactly the lightest guy and if the ladder’s hooks were to break while I was holding it I would lose both my hands and my face. I didn’t tell my father, but if I felt the ladder’s integrity weaken, I was letting go...how’s that for trust. The trust issue comes up a lot. Last week I had to hold steaks while Ken, one of my father’s old work buddies, pounded them in and then put nails through them. The guy with the hammer caught my thumb once... it was a small hit so it did no damage but to think what could happen made me shudder. I couldn’t stop picturing the sledgehammer catching me in the wrist, or the hammer smashing my knuckles.

I feel the ability to trust another is a virtue, but I don’t feel my distrust is negative. So I don’t trust my father’s weight, or his friend’s eyes, or Habitat’s ladder, I imagine most people operate in this fashion. It’s bad though because my distrust of certain things make me untrustworthy... perhaps something to get over during my time with Habitat.