First World Problem that I’m sick of

Our neighborhood is under the siege of gas pipe replacement. A piece of heavy equipment (or 5) has been parked in front or beside our house for about 9 months (or forever). They hooked up our house about two weeks ago. Yay? The side street is finally patched enough that you don’t worry about popping a tire or losing the car’s undercarriage. The main drag is another story.

I’ve been in a silent, and ultimately a losing, battle with the bastards working on the road/gas lines with the Road Closed signs they can’t seem to stop leaving in the green-way between our house and the road. Really? How many times do I need to move that crap off the grass so I can cut it? A gazillion, apparently. How many bottles and cans do I need to pick up? Easily a dozen. I think they finally got the hint when I and others started putting the trash back on their equipment. When someone treats public space like a baby treats a diaper, I really wonder what their homes look like. Yep, I’m judging.

Now we come to the world’s largest staple or bracket or whatever that was dug up out of the ground. It looks like a horseshoe for a giant horse. It weighs about 5 pounds and is made of iron. I have moved that out of the way several times and today I found it back on the grass because one of the workers is an effin’ idiot. Rather than wrap it around a construction worker’s head, it is now in the recycle bin. I’m not sure I can get away with throwing away the Road Closed signs, but we’ll see.

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