Our street is truly a freak show.
I gave this one girl advice once, Get a big dog, 'cause as a young couple you might live in shady places. This is clearly our case. You simply cannot rent for cheap, with a yard, and close proximity to the highway without really distancing yourself from weirdos.
I just stepped into the kitchen and caught a glimpse of the strange man in the blue truck burning a piece of paper out of his window. I call him strange for this reason, and for the deductions that I have made about him:
- His sole job is to pick up and drop off the individuals across the street.
- said individuals are unrelated, I think, and range from jittery skinny white woman to, young African American male, to maybe a transgendered or Gothic male (undetermined at this point).
- He mostly picks them up one by one.
- Sometimes they are in street clothes, sometimes a uniform. Burger King, I think.
SO either he is a pimp, or their chauffeur. Either, I would hate my life if I were him and burn paper out of my window for fun, too.
That's not the only freakish thing about Marion Street.
Sometimes the city will contract out complete a$$es to fix things, and in doing so, they make big piles of dirt and asphalt on both ends of the street. So if you didn't park on a side street a head of time, ya now, 'cause sometimes we can all use the excercise, then you are trapped until they move those but CAT machines out of the way.
I long for the day when moving is over and we are settled for good. In a prime location. And I can finally buy the Eero Saarinen Tulip Table. I really hope that will be within the next year, after the condo that we're about to move into.