On the road again

So, tomorrow morning, way too early for the civilized to be out and about, I make my third trip to the US in ten and half weeks (but who’s counting?). With tongue firmly rooted in cheek, Bob assures me that when I return, in a week, the street will be smooth, passable and blast-free.  He also noted that pigs will fly.

In the spring, anti-abortion protesters took up a vigil at the hospital parking lot entrance on South Park.  They reappeared on Wednesday morning, I noticed as I hustled off up the street at the beginning of my day, but they looked dazed and confused by the conflagration of noise, dirt and the fact that there was no drive by traffic, due to the ginormous work scene.  They didn’t return yesterday and this morning it’s raining.

On the other hand, everyone else in town seems to be very much aware of the construction scene and I’m getting calls from as far away as Sackville with questions about how exactly I get into my house and whether we have any running water:  with difficulty and perseverance; and yes, for now, although the plastic loop that is its carrier now stands frighteningly free of much an anchor at our doorstep.

Al of which is to say, any maintenance problems I have ever seen in Berkeley will look diminutive and benign.  And I shall be hoping that pigs do, indeed, learn to fly during the coming week.

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