Op-Ed - Same pain, but different neighbors
It's Sunday afternoon. My husband and daughter are out of the house and I'm at my usual weekend station: at the kitchen sink, by the kitchen window hurriedly scouring the dishes. Housework has once again become a sporadic task, now that school has started.
A small Sunday crew, a contractor and two teenaged young men pull up in an extended cab truck, and proceed to do some work around the monolith still under construction across the street. Then, a mid-size silver late model car drives by on my side of the street.
It slows in front of my house.