I knew I was going in under the harshest of conditions. I knew it might be a futile attempt. But it had to be done and I was the one to do it. "Courage is not the absence of fear..." And I was very afraid.
For armor, I wore a long-sleeved, thick shirt, heavy jeans, and barn boots. I brought in reinforcements--the large garbage can and empty boxes. I arranged the troops around the door and then burst it open. I fought near the door for over an hour, striking and retreating and striking again. The garbage can was at its peak as it gobbled up the enemy. Empty boxes kept prisoners that would later be recycled or taken to HQ for re-filing. Books, notebooks and memorabilia were thrown at me. Vermin had ruined some of the books; those were tossed to Garbage Detail. Obsolete papers were ripped out of notebooks and given to Recycling Detail.
Finally, I had a corner, established a base camp, and moved further into enemy territory from there. But the garbage can was full and had to retreat. An overlarge box stepped in to take its place. Suddenly I was surrounded by boxes full of...nevermind what they were full of. I had to strike again and again. I was wearing down. The words of FDR filled my mind: "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." I had to advance, not retreat. And suddenly, it was the calvary! Chris, my right hand man, arrived, fresh for the fight. He burst in through the shed on the opposite side, through the large doors. He flung sticks out the door, swept (literally) through a whole section, and reached me in time to back the enemy into a corner.
We rushed out of there and locked it up. The shed was still standing but so were we. Another day, we will return, and we will NOT FAIL!
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