Road construction season never truly ends in this part of the Midwest. And even in the current horrific economy strip malls often blossom as quickly as dandelions in the spring. For me the projects equal derailed travel plans or potential road rage. This time it's something different.
On a main thoroughfare near Elder House a formerly empty (I think empty) lot has begun to resemble a smaller version of the Big Dig. Cyclone fences. Hard hat only signage. Port-A-Johns. Large,mud encrusted earth moving equipment. Blah blah, blah. The story here at Elder House is that they "discovered something" at the bottom of the pit. If that was the end of it, the story would be widespread and ever so newsworthy and cool. Stay with me.
There is another more minor project closer to our actual building. Some sidewalks have been demolished. Shrubbery removed. Parking lots reconfigured. This tale is that they "hit something." Gas main, buried toxic waste, improperly interred human remains. Who knows. Nobody here.
The gist of either scenario is that we are probably going to be relocated. Temporarily. My mind goes to the dark place of course. Pack only what you can carry. Women to the left. Men to the right. Is that a cattle car I spy in the fog? I think Manzanar.
Keep breathing. Go with the flow. Avoid old folks natural tendency to panic. Focus, Girl, focus. Okey dokey. Think instead: Yup. I could get used to hotel room service, handicapped accessible swimming, and free internet. God bless those clumsy government workers. Right?
On a main thoroughfare near Elder House a formerly empty (I think empty) lot has begun to resemble a smaller version of the Big Dig. Cyclone fences. Hard hat only signage. Port-A-Johns. Large,mud encrusted earth moving equipment. Blah blah, blah. The story here at Elder House is that they "discovered something" at the bottom of the pit. If that was the end of it, the story would be widespread and ever so newsworthy and cool. Stay with me.
There is another more minor project closer to our actual building. Some sidewalks have been demolished. Shrubbery removed. Parking lots reconfigured. This tale is that they "hit something." Gas main, buried toxic waste, improperly interred human remains. Who knows. Nobody here.
The gist of either scenario is that we are probably going to be relocated. Temporarily. My mind goes to the dark place of course. Pack only what you can carry. Women to the left. Men to the right. Is that a cattle car I spy in the fog? I think Manzanar.
Keep breathing. Go with the flow. Avoid old folks natural tendency to panic. Focus, Girl, focus. Okey dokey. Think instead: Yup. I could get used to hotel room service, handicapped accessible swimming, and free internet. God bless those clumsy government workers. Right?
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