This is about my parking strip. Totally nude. Since last November, 2010.
If you read Blob #24, you already know more than you wanted to know about the bumps and grinds that got the parking strip to where it was by November. Naked as a jaybird. And, today, – April 3rd – it still is.
My old parking strip was modestly covered in concrete with four square sections where four old ornamental plum trees grew. Last summer, after the 42-year-old trees got too old, ungainly and diseased, I did what any red-blooded, obsessive, predatory homeowner would do — I had them murdered.
I paid the hit man $850 to do the deed and to dispose of the bodies and the concrete. Unfortunately, it is illegal to commit this crime in Seattle unless you have a permit or are willing to spend some quality time in jail.
All I wanted to do was to replace the trees and concrete, but by the time the parking strip went through the bureaucratic gyrations, rules, policies, permits, and payment of fees, a cold November had rolled around and the landscaper said it was too late to do any planting. To console me, he said, “Think of it as if it’s a blank canvas.”
To avoid the stares and glares of the neighbors, I’ve tried to slink out of the house with a hood over my head, pretending that I don’t know who lives here.
Winter rolled around, and then early spring, and the rain never stopped. The parking strip has become a relentlessly long pool of mud. Even the neighborhood dogs try to avoid stepping in it.
Actually, the sun came out this morning for a few minutes. I saw it quite clearly. That must mean that spring is near, and that it’s time to tiptoe through the tulips if there were any to tiptoe through.
Kelby, the landscape person, prepared to begin creating the Garden of Eden this week. Personally, I’m just counting on St. Francis and my checkbook to see me through the ordeal. I will keep you advised.