I forget if I told this story before, but:

In college I really loved basketball and organized a summer league at a park in my hometown, where my friends who were home from college would drive every Wed, and we'd play until it was too dark or the bugs got too bad.

But the court was kind of shitty -- it would get sand on it, and I cared the most, so I started showing up early to sweep it; and then I started bringing towels, bc if it had rained recently puddles would collect in the uneven parts, so I'd mop it up. And I'd bring water for myself, of course, because I sweat copiously; but then people would forget their water, and I'd let them have some of mine, and then I didn't have enough water, so I started bringing several gallons of water, and people would just drink all those.

It goes without saying that never did anyone offer to help, or pick up part of these duties; and in fact, people got lax about bringing water because I was there to save them.

--

I fucking hate the "lesson" in this. I refuse to absorb it all the way. But I have absorbed it a little.

Now that I write this, I don't think I ever asked anyone else to step up, never tried to uplift them in a way that might have worked, because that kind of thing is too uncomfortable. How funny, that the hard conversation turned out to be harder than the work itself.

Maybe that's the better lesson. It's certainly the more hopeful one.