The trash has been emptied and refilled. The recycling
carried away. The leaves moved to the curb and removed by plows and trucks and
sweepers.
It amazes me the amount of personnel and material used to do
these simple jobs.
Years ago, men with rakes piled the leaves and hoisted them
into trucks. Before that we burned the leaves next to the side walks.
Today, there are plows and huge dinosaur trucks in
processions moving the dead solar cells into a pile for delivery to another
site, cleaning the concrete for the mobile machines.
And cops ticketing vehicles who couldn't (wouldn't) read the
big green signs about the street cleaning, followed by rows of repro trucks
picking up their $125 charges in a parade of forgetful wonderment.
Why do dinosaurs sound like heavy machinery? Did the T-Rex
really sound like a trash truck?
And what is with the white city trucks full of black men in
day glo yellow vest sitting on every corner? Are they ready to attack the
leaves if they do not cooperate with the monster machines? These trucks sit at
every corner, motors running, waiting.... My tax dollars at work.
So on my journey around the neighborhood observing all my
tax money being used when the leaves could just rot and be washed away by the
spring rains, I ponder a thought from last weekend's wonderful dinner with
friends.
I caught myself saying "we" in discussions, about
home and family and processes.... then I realized, I need to change that
description to "I".
And life moves on. Two days of pulling nails and cutting
wood and tomorrows adventure....move upstairs.
2 comments:
Hang in there my friend. You are far from being alone.
I didn't notice the "we" at all, so I think maybe it's just a little self-conscious on your part.
Relax. It's only natural. And like that lovebug says, you ain't alone, mi amigo.
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