I told you I lived in an asylum.
Imagine my surprise when I walked down the stairs only to see my porch cordoned off like a crime scene…
Upon closer inspection, I realized the tape said CAUTION rather than POLICE LINE. Still, though, I wondered if my house had been contaminated and “they” had told everyone except me.
(Yes, that is my Taurus in the background…)
Turns out that my landlord, who recently bought the house next door, had decided to re-pave the concrete steps that span both houses.
(If you look closely, you can see my Anyone But Bush bumper sticker on the back of the white car.)
We were advised to use our back door for new next few days. We did that (or just hopped the front porch) for, oh, a couple of hours. That quickly got old. I mean, I dunno who that construction guy thought he was, asking me to walk alllll the way to the back of the house just to get in and out of my own goddamn apartment. So, of course, after the guy left we just started walking right over the plastic.
The whole thing wasn’t as sexy as some crime drama, but it’s nice that we can reap some residual benefits from our neighbors’ the ongoing home improvement.
The job is all done now, and our neighbors from the surrounding houses no longer look at us strangely. And no, the steps don’t have the word NIKE stamped all over them.