This morning I’m just sitting at my dining room table, minding my own business, eating my hard-boiled-egg-with-salt-and-pepper in an attempt to neutralize the caramel coating in my stomach left over from Halloween, when Mr. City Road Guy knocks on the door.

Ma’am, he says, if you plan on getting out today, you’ll need to move your car. We’re working in front of your house today.

And I say, after giving him a tired and quizzical look, Today? Haven’t you been working in front of our house for months? (You’ll remember awhile ago when the little back-up beeps on the heavy equipment were kind of on my nerves.)

And he says, I mean right in front of your house.

And he doesn’t seem that amused by me or my questions or the yolk that’s sort of crumbling down the front of my shirt.

And I say, I don’t know why – you would think I would just nod and say thank you and get my keys but I say, Is it going to be extra-special loud?

And Mr. City Road Guy looks like he’s already had a long day. Thanks to me, I think.

He sighs and he starts to answer but I can’t really hear what he says because just then begins a symphony of beep beep beep beeps…

So at this point I do as I’m told.

Because I plan on, um, getting out today.