For some reason they’ve got a big trench dug down the center of Burlington, and traffic’s funneled into one lane each direction, and there are about five million orange cones set out, and ‘USE THIS LANE’ signs with arrows and flashing lights, and there is literally tons of heavy equipment all painted orange, and it’s loud and smelly but populated by deeply tanned, shirtless road crew guys who’ll smile if you wave at them.

I decided to have take-out India Cafe buffet for lunch today, and ended up walking about eight blocks to get there and back, even though it’s only three blocks away. (No way was I going to attempt hopping over the trench in an ankle-length skirt and heeled sandals in front of backed-up semi traffic, thank you very much. My clutz gene is too expressed to take that kind of risk. Especially on the way back with the food.)

I got my lunch, paid the cute guy with the endless eyelashes and sparkling black eyes, and sauntered my circuitious route back to the office, where I sat at my desk reading blogs and eating. Of course I got some dhal on my shirt. I don’t think I’ve eaten a single thing without getting any on my clothes in the past five years. I don’t know why this is, other than God hates me and wants me to suffer.

I’m curious about why they’re tearing up the main drag through town. I’ve been observing carefully for the past few days and it looks like they’re just ripping up strips of blacktop and replacing it immediately. It’s a municipal mystery.

Tuesday morning the asphault-ripper-upper went by our building and it felt like an earthquake. The walls vibrated and the floor shook. Buzzdoctor and I actually had to go out and have a look; it was a tractor-lookin’ thing with a big heavy roller on the front and it vibrated like a motherfucker as it tore up the road.

When we returned to our desks here at the Internet (you know I work at the Internet, right?), I said, “Thank God we’re not running seismographs in here, or our tapes would be all fucked up.”