The groundskeeper is a waste of my time. He spends his time talking about protocal and policies, talking off my ear in a condesending tone like I'm five. He's pretty old so I guess to him, I might as well be. I can tell he is a firm supported of my parents without even putting much thought into it. The amount of times he asks about their wellbeing and praises the changes they've made with the pack is downright absurd.
I spend much longer than I had originally planned with the Mr. Fisher. Everytime I try to leave he has another questions about how everything will be layed out. I assure him for the millionth time that we'll have more than enough space for everything we need and that the rink size he planned will be big enough.
I'm doing what I hope is a final lap around the perimeter of th
