BACK IN MY BRICKYARD

Getting around the gas restoration work sites is almost as painful as my constant posts about the whole process.  I know, I know!  I'm sorry.  But this is a blog about my life, and, kids, this is my life.

For the last four nights I have been parking in a lot across the dangerous intersection -- it's a small tar and dirt lot under trees, so my car is getting tree grunge and bird poop on it.  I probably could've snuck my car into the driveway last night, but the gas company was paving the end of my street until midnight.  I wasn't certain at the time that I'd be able to get out again to go to work in the morning.

Yesterday's commute home was an exercise in inertia.  I sat in traffic for thirty minutes, twenty of which were to go one quarter of a mile until I could reach a side street.  Then I had to circle my own neighborhood by another mile and a half just to reach the parking area because every street leading to mine was closed off for gas work.

This is good; this is bad.

Today I am expecting the same slow show.  After all, if the workers are putting down 150 feet of pipe a day, no way will my street be done yet because it's about 300 feet long, and they just rounded the corner to my street two days ago.  I approach my street from the side away from last night's tarring, grab a spot in the church parking lot (which is a much safer walk than through the dangerous intersection), hoof it in from my car and see...

Hey, my landlord has all of the family's cars in their driveway on the other side of my house!

I hustle back down the street, start the car's engine, maneuver my car back into traffic and -- sit there.  Stuck again in goddamn gridlock.  Holy shit, this traffic is getting old really, really, really fast.  It has been three straight weeks of gridlock all over town, gridlock so torturous that the new town motto is "You cannot get there from here, but certainly enjoy the scenery as you sit forever in your car hoping and praying that when the light changes yet again, you might actually make it through this time."

It takes me ten minutes and some very aggressive driving to get around the block one more time.  As I approach my street, I see that a gas company pick-up truck is now blocking the entrance to my road.  I edge closer, closer, closer until I am finally able to drive around the cars in front of me, go up over the sidewalk a bit, and break out to open space that leads to my driveway.

Success!

Of course this means that I cannot possibly even consider going anywhere tonight, but that's okay.  I've got a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup, some sandwich meat, and cold beer.  I'm certain I won't be starving to death or anything like that.  I am just so damn excited that my car is closer than the next town finally!  I might not leave the house this weekend.  Maybe I'll just stare at my tree sap-covered, bird pooped-on car and muse wistfully on how wonderful it is to be back in my own driveway.