Little Shop of Horrors

Some weeks are better than others. And this would not be one of those better weeks.

Yesterday, we got the complimentary wake-up call of cement being crushed by large machinery and dropped into a dump truck...at 6:45 am. Who needs an alarm clock when you live in a construction zone? I mean, I'm not complaining that they're out there so working hard. Ok, maybe I'm complaining just a little bit, but I was totally asleep, so they're kind of asking for it.

This afternoon I went out to do some field work for that pesky day job. I got off the bus stop at Hampden, and while strolling across a newly built wooden pedestrian bridge, a large hunk of lumber sliced the side of my foot open. Silly me, wearing sandals in a crosswalk. Who needs two whole feet anyway?

So I stood for a bit in the construction zone, bleeding on the pavement, until I decided to hobble a few more feet into the Lyric apartment building, where I whined into the intercom to the leasing office, "Um, I cut my foot...whimper whimper...sniff sniff." Thankfully, the ladies working there were very understanding and allowed me to come in and clean up - and even gave me a disinfectant wipe and big band-aid (extra credit goes to them for having a fully stocked first aid kit). We complained about construction together. I felt better.

And then on the way home, I saw something at Raymond that just really summed it up for me.



You couldn't be more right about that one! Better luck next week.