Each day, I wait for the knock.
It's not the traditional knuckles on wood that but that sharp-sounding rap of a room card on my hotel door.
Tap, tap, tap. "Housekeeping." (Wait 30 seconds.) Tap, tap, tap. "Housekeeping."
When I get to the door, the greeting comes from a warm and friendly couple who then to proceed to make my room spotless. Yes, it's an older hotel and at a daily rate of $50, I understand what I'm paying for. But this husband and wife ensure that every surface is wiped, I get new plastic cups and towels, hard floors are mopped and the carpets are vacuumed.
Early on, they made my bed each day. I asked them to stop because after they left, I would promptly jump back in.
It feels like they're taking care of me, even if it's only a job for them.
On Sunday, I tipped the gentleman $20 after six days of cleaning.
He tilted his head aside, pocketed the money and said, "God bless you."
Twenty bucks is much money to me now -- hell, it always had been. But I refuse because of my circumstances to treat anyone lesser because of where I am.
In my darkest days, I remember the lesson's of Plato's "The Apology," his account of the trial of mentor Socrates. In it, Socrates said bad men cannot harm good men -- because a good man is made of components that cannot be taken away: integrity, honesty, empathy, truth. No one can take away those elements of a good man.
In his life, the tribunal of Athens took away Socrates' life but it did not change his life as a good man.
So, the homeless editor will tip as long as he can -- but don't expect me to hand out twenties to everyone.
I'm not drunk.
Peace and tips unto all of you my brothers and sisters.