It started with a letter.
Dear Lovely Quiet Street Resident: We need to repave your Lovely Quiet Street. Due to the tiny, narrow, and steep nature of Lovely Quiet Street, access will be limited during construction. Work will begin around 7am, with breaks at 9am, Noon, and 3pm to allow access to residents. Work will end around 5pm daily.We don't know the exact start date, but we'll let you know.
This was the gist, anyway. I have since shredded the actual letter in a fit of rage and frustration.
The first day was a complete surprise. No one was informed. There was no phone call (there are fewer than ten houses up here, so it wouldn't be out of the question), no letter, not even a sign. I was in the car, about to go to yoga class, when I rolled down the hill and found the street blocked by a back hoe and a dump truck and three guys who were dressed like Wyatt going for a swim. They waved and smiled cheerfully, and since I knew it wasn't their fault I didn't bother to say anything. I backed up the hill, parked the car, and took the dogs for a walk instead. I ran into a neighbor at the bottom of the hill. She was in her car, and just as surprised as I was to find the Men At Work. There were sighs, some eye rolling, and a bit of muttering about the local government, and then we both went on our way.
The next day. I drove the b.h. to class early in the morning, before work started. I came back and parked the car at the bottom of the hill so I could use it later without restriction. I spent the rest of that day cleaning, and then finally ventured out around 2pm to run some errands. There was no activity on the street, and it was open to all traffic. It was also very ht outside, and I cursed out loud several times while stumbling down the (now unpaved) hill to my car.
The day after that, I got a call from A, who was interested in taking a dog trip to Hubbard Park. I explained about my car being trapped, and she agreed to meet me in a parking lot down at the bottom of the hill. As I was walking the dogs down the hill toward the construction, a woman rolled up next to me in her car. It was 11:45.
"They should be breaking at twelve", I said into her car window as I dragged the dogs forward (Wyatt is afraid of big loud stuff).
"They said they weren't taking a break today, but that I could just come down when I wanted to leave and they would move for me."
They moved as soon as they saw her, and waited for me and the dogs to walk through before they started up again.
On Friday, there was no activity at all. No trucks, no guys- nothing. The weather forcast had called for rain, but that is true about nine out of ten days here, and it only actually rains about half that much, so I can't imagine that they're basing their schedule on it.
We had the weekend off, mercifully, so I was free to come and go as I pleased.