When we arrived home late last night, the street was pretty quiet. There was little commotion and most of our neighbor’s lights were out for the evening. We pulled into a parking spot near our building.
My husband and I realized the house next to ours was completely bare and vulnerable to gawkers. The two large trees that once gave secrecy and distance were finally removed from sight and the dangers of them falling and collapsing into our roof was alleviated.
Taking in the surroundings a little bit more, we saw no sign the workers would return. All debris was removed; the street was clean and the parking area once again open and free to the public.
But, there it was. Straight in front of me. There was no getting around it. As I leaned forward in the passenger seat to grab my bag and slide out the door, I couldn’t help but stop and stare. A sight for sore eyes.
PORT O POTTY.
Right outside my front gate.
The look my husband and I gave one another said it all. Time for a night cap and slumber to erase the image of blush nausea. Little did I know the disaster was only beginning to wreak its havoc on my street.
This morning as I looked out the window, crossing my fingers it had been taken to it’s resting grounds, I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth. Overnight wind activity (or rowdy teenagers) left us with sidewalk ruin for some Saturday morning blessings.
Bikers and pedestrians are in for a weekend treat. A hurdle of rose colored monstrosity makes it almost impossible to navigate the usually clean and clear path. Instead of staying on the straight and narrow stones, one must be diverted to the road less traveled.
It’s just too bad we don’t have nose plugs.
Until tomorrow –
OMGG graphic image created using canva.com; photo image from personal gallery