Good morning. The fucking street cleaner barreling up the street, diesel engine the size of a rhinoceros with absolutely no precautions taken to dampen the sound. Displacing the 3 leaves that have fallen and the single Von’s receipt and Payday wrapper. Moving these things over slightly. Spraying down a thin layer of water, not enough to carry the dirt into the drain. Just enough to slightly rearrange the dirt into new patterns, like drizzle on your dirty windshield.
Street cleaning does not clean the street. It exists so that every residential thoroughfare can be half blocked off to parking once a week, so the city can collect tickets. It is 8:15; the city collects tickets from 8 to 10, and the street cleaner has gone by. But if I went and parked on the side of the street blocked off for the street cleaner now, would they spare me a ticket? Of course not. Letter of the law.
What’s a shame is, they still have to invest in this giant loud expensive machine. They still have to have it labor up the hill in a big loud show at 8am, instead of just saying: “we need money. Therefore there will be a parking curfew at random morning times on each block and if you don’t move your car we’ll collect a $40 fine.” They can’t be that honest; we just want your money. They have to do this whole kabuki dance with this stupid machine that does nothing but fucking wake you up early and probably kill squirrels.
So many things in life are like this. Dating is like this. I just want to fuck. I just need to collect 40 dollars worth of pussy but I’m still forced to drag ass up the fucking hill and do my route.