As if, I needed something else to complain about. A bridge is under construction on a major county road near my home.
The longest way round is supposed to be the shortest way home–unless it’s the way to everything that’s important in your life–the closest gas station, convenience store, family doctor, dentist, favorite vegetable stand.
However, there’s been a warped sense of satisfaction, aiding the errant; those that have lost their senses of direction; gotten lost on neighborhood side streets.
Two middle-aged gentlemen, out for a day of golfing, stopped me. “How can we get to Soldier’s Creek Golf Course? The road is closed.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to go back the way you came. To go east from here, you have to first go west, back track to the expressway, then to US 98, and east. No, there’s no short cut. Unless, your car can submerge under the bay. Tell me about it, I deal with it everyday.”