I need a vacation right quick
It's warm from the window that is supposed to supply a breeze to my room, the only window with
a screen in it. I try to look out on the street, but there isn't much there. The construction on our curb has left debris and broken balloons from the block-party scheduled "just in time" as well as a three-foot pile of gravel for use later. No one is out, moving down the torn up sidewalk or street. The odd insect that lives right outside and the faint roar of traffic from the highway are my only background. An ambient, half white noise wave that keeps me awake.
My truck looks lonely parked across the street in the cul-de-sac. Teetering over the four-inch gap
of curb and street. I'm not entirely sure when they'll finish construction. With the date of completion left blank on the orange sheets of paper left on our doors, "weather permitting" written instead. We're not sure if our mail will be delivered any more. After talking to the mailman yesterday my dad tells me that he should because he wouldn't have to overextend his arm to reach the box, while other house may have to go to the post office to pick up theirs. He tells me that they have a clause in their union rules about the extension of their arm, and that they don't have to get out of their "cars". I hope it's called the "Neither rain, sleet, hail or snow will keep the mailperson from their route"...except if he/she has to extend their arm more than three feet, then you're screwed.
I'm reminded that not one block over mail is delivered on foot due to a lack of mailboxes on the
street. Wouldn't it be just as feasible for them to do the same on our street? Probably. But they won't, and I'll have to drive out to the post office, not sure which one, to pick up the stack of coupons and bills while my parents are on their twenty-fifth anniversary cruise to the Caribbean; they left this morning.
Anti-climactic.
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