Quarantine day 161

Several months ago, a flyer was left on our door, telling us work would begin on our roads with the date section blank. It was very official looking, so I kept it, periodically checking if invisible ink had been used that would one day magically appear to announce the beginning of the road work.

Nothing appeared--no date, no workers.

Since I'm rarely outside in the front of my house, I was also clueless that the rest of my neighborhood roads were being torn apart until Oleg ventured out on a walk, returning with the update. Even then, I didn't put two and two together until the next morning when I returned from a haircut appointment to find the entrance blocked by large trucks. I had to enter another way through the hood, assure the flagman blocking my path I did own a house down the street, and bump my way over rocks and dirt to my driveway. Only then did I remember the flyer.

It was two days of sheer noise. To tear, repair and repave shook my house like I imagine Californians experience during an earthquake. Everything, clear down to the foundation, rattled, and the whine my house emitted from the disturbance got to us by day two. By then, our teeth were also loose.

The idiocy of this is that a month ago, workers repaired potholes and areas on our road that were then torn up in this second phase. Does anyone monitor this stuff? I kept adding up the payroll hours, equipment and mileage used, etc. in my head--government at it's finest.

Now we have new streets covered in black tar that emits heat in our ninety-degree weather, burns our dog's paws, and gets tracked in on our shoes. But, hey, our road looks spiffy!

Plus, it brought us some excitement in quarantine!