IT'S SPARKLING!

Early in the day, two days a week, people in my neighborhood panic. Certain people. Only. Because of street cleaning. One day one side, the next day the other side. If they're parked on the wrong side, they get ticketed and sometimes towed. A substantial fine and charge for reclaiming their vehicle, a black mark on their permanent record, they'll never get into the best colleges, will be turned down for good employment, looked at askance, and other members of their church congregation will whisper bad things about them.

People know who they are. They'll be burned for witchcraft.
The rest of us, not having motorcars, don't care.
If we had wheels, we'd angle them.

NOTE: When parking in San Francisco, if it's on a slope, you must angle your front wheels correctly in case the beast starts rolling. This is very important! Tourists and visitors, being unaware of this, will get severely fined and on a bad day might be hauled off to involuntarily donate a kidney.

I do not have a car.

HILLY STREET IN SAN FRANCISCO

My first pipe smoke this morning while taking a walk was marked by panic. Even saw people wearing bathrobes rush out to repark before the sweep vehicle passed by, preceded by the parketing officer. We are very insistent about clean streets in this city, although considerably less concerned about the sidewalk. Which might be needle-strewn and dogpoo-smeared.

I returned to my apartment building at the time when on a work day I would be getting off the bus in Boondsnorgle (located in deepest Marin) to make a cup of tea before sweeping and emptying ashtrays, in preparation for the eventual arrival of a few senile old geezers whose family members (wives, or last living kin) don't want them around during the day, because they smell bad, dress funny, and cuss and swear and argue.

Naturally I thoroughly enjoy my days off.

At present I do not have a wife or last living kin who would chase me out of my home, and my apartment mate has an entirely different schedule, so her being present does not overlap much with my cussing, swearing, or arguing. Which I mostly do at work anyway.

Also, clean streets. That counts for something.
They're filthy when I'm at work.
Now they're clean.




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