Cement Truck and Workers at Camp and Louisiana


I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: commuting by bike means you get to ride your bike every single day, no matter what. I had a lot of stuff to do today, but I got there on my bike, which meant 12 or so miles of spinning along in the sunshine. I started with a ride over to Mid-City to help R. move into her new place (congrats!) followed by a ride to campus to meet with a student and finish up prep for summer school, which starts in two weeks. After a quick stop at the grocery I headed home. My head was busy busy, so on that last couple of miles I tried to get out of my head and really look. There was that all-white house that’s so white it almost glows, a plot of wildflowers (though I guess they’ve been domesticated if they’re living in a yard), a clump of bright orange gerber daisies, that boat (do you think it ever sees water?), and then, as I crossed Delachaise on Camp, this cement truck and a whole bunch of workers making the rust-colored cement smooth as ice in that massive driveway. Why is a cement truck unloading cement that’s spread like frosting so satisfying? This morning when I rolled out they were lacing the ground with steel, and by the time I had dropped my groceries and met with my writing group the place was all done and a little boy was hanging out and getting the skinny from the workers on the big project. I guess I’m not the only one who wants to watch.

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