Spring in Nova Scotia means pot holes. (And boy, do I mean Pot Holes). As such, summer typically equates to Road Work.
Since the glorious summer equinox this past Sunday, Mother Nature has kindly bestowed our fair province with fog, dampness, grey skies and rain. This morning however a true sign that summer has arrived appeared outside my window: construction workers.
When I woke up there were no fewer than 7 trucks of various sizes and shapes parked outside my house. From this collection of vehicles emerged a dozen or so city employees decked in their reflective vests and hard hats. This is all fine - I live on a busy street and appreciate that it is in horrendous shape at the moment, and I can calmly deal with the fact that I am barely able to back out of my driveway. What I find interesting is that these workers don't seem to actually do anything.
Granted I am nothing if not ignorant of what it takes to patch a road. Perhaps it is intrinsic that 6 men stand on the corner and watch while their coworker backs up a dump truck; smoking and spitting could be an fundamental cog in the road construction machine; maybe part of the job description is to ogle residents as they stumble half asleep out of the house, tea in hand, to drive a roommate to work. If so - excellently done gentlemen. You are a shining example of tax payer's money being put to good use.
I don't want to sound like a complete nag, I truly appreciate that the road in front of my house is getting some much-needed TLC. I'm just saying that there are many a pothole desperately waiting your comprehensive attention, dear construction workers, and that perhaps if you spread yourselves out a bit - a little less 'standing and watching' and a little more 'doing' - our roads could be restored to their former glory (aka smoothness) in a much more timely fashion.