The homeless guy Kip showed up at my door today around noon. I saw his face appear through the stainless glass before he knocked, but I didn't know who was there.
There he stood, soaking wet from the rain, with a big smile on his bearded face. He owes me money, ripped me off the last time I let him in, and all I could do was shake my head and close the door.
He understood, and left. I walked out later to make sure he hadn't crashed in my truck.
I consider myself a very compassionate man, but there always comes a point where you have to stop. That happened today.
And now I sit here feeling bad. Maybe I should have given him shelter for a bit, found out what was going on, but I did not.
Or maybe I did the right thing for myself, for a change...