I have little notes of the terrible things I heard everyday. I felt like I was on some hidden camera show because honestly, I didn’t know anything could be THAT BAD. I knew I was in serious hell within the first hour when I overheard my supervisor say, “My eight-year-old daughter is never gunna have boobs. At least not until she finds a man to buy them for her.” (Commence vomiting.)

Thankfully, I’m done with that hideous company and moving on to something much more meaningful: helping care for my aging grandparents. For the last couple of months I have been cleaning their house for two hours per week. It was enough at first, but the last few months, weeks in particular, have been rough and my grandma isn’t able to do as much as she used to. I’ve been trying to cram a week’s worth of cleaning into two hours and it just hasn’t been working, so I was ecstatic when she asked if I’d like to increase my hours. I hope that being there will help her regain some of her strength and to feel comforted that she doesn’t need to worry so much. I really enjoy spending time with them and I am grateful to be able to help and feel lucky to spend more time with my grandma and grandpa.