My odd attempts at freelance journalism have often been fueled by interests I have or irritants that make me want to share my griping with a wider audience. I thought I had found the perfect story when one sunny, summer morning, I was awakened by the sound of jackhammers outside my window. Indignant, I peered out to see city workers digging up my sidewalk. Upon closer inspection, it seemed my corner of Parc-Ex was getting a make-over, complete with large orange signs, bulldozers, and sunglassed construction workers smoking cigarettes and texting as they leaned on a wall. I felt there was surely a story here. Why else would I be awoken so early in the morning? I called the city and tried to ask intelligent questions but ended up blurting out, "But why replace perfectly good sidewalks with new ones? And why before 7 am in the summer?" The answers were perfectly reasonable (replacement of sewer tops, verification of water mains, etc) and my ire fizzled to a coal glow of jackhammer headache. Then the work was done, the only reminder was the checkerboard appearance of the new sidewalk squares interspersed with the old. Until. Until this morning when the jackhammers started up again, the lounging city workers reappeared and the street in front of my house was ripped up.
It is just the section of street in front of my house that is getting the overhaul. One wonders if my call to City Hall got the ball rolling, as it were. I do recall saying, "It's not the sidewalks that need replacing, it's the streets." Perhaps they took my advice and are now replacing the streets, one bone-jittering section at a time.
In the meantime, I need to get away from my house.
No comments:
Post a Comment